TRAGEDIES, 



BY 



WILLIAM SOTHEBY, ESQ. 



THE DEATH OF DARNLEY. 

IVAN. 

ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

THE CONFESSION. 

ORESTES. 



LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET ; 
by w. btjlmer and co. cleveland-row, 

st. james's. 

1814. 






■f7 



TO 



MISS JOANNA BAILLIE. 



Dear Madam, 

In dedicating a Volume of Tragedies to the Author 
of the Dramas on the Passions, who can he more 
aware, than I am, of the hazardous comparison to 
which I subject myself ? that consideration, how- 
ever, will not deter me from thus publicly expressing 
my high admiration of your poetic powers, and the 
enjoyment that I have long experienced from a 
friendship, which has convinced me that the qualities 
of your heart enhance those of your genius. 

WILLIAM SOTHEBY. 



Upper Seymour-Street, 
June 3, 1814. 



THE 



DEATH OF DARNLEY, 

A TRAGEDY 



FIVE ACTS. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
Men. 

Henry Darnley, King of Scotland. 

Earl Bothwell. 

Earl Morton. 

Earl Ruthven. 

Sir Thomas Randolph,, Embassador of Elizabeth. 

David Rizzio, Foreign Secretary to Queen Mary. 

Lindsay, Confident of Rizzio. 

Siward, Servant of the Queen. 

John Hepburn, -\ 

John Hay., > Servants of Bothwell. 

Herman, a 'page, J 

Lords, Guards, Heralds, fyc. &;c. Musicians, 
Dancers. 

Women. 

Mary, Queen of Scotland. 

Countess of Argyle, the Queen's natural sister. 

SCENE, Edinburgh and its suburbs. 



THE 



DEATH OF DARNLEY. 



ACT I. SCENE I. 

dntichamber of Rizzio's Apartment at Holy-rood, 
TJie Stage crowded with Courtiers and Suitors. 

Two of Rizzio's Gentlemen Ushers. 

1 Gent. Look how they press : their clamorous 

noise confounds me. 
All suitors ? 

2 Gent. Yes — You are but new in office — 
J Tis ever thus : hither, at dawn of day. 

All hasten, ere our Lord, high-honour'd Rizzio, 
Goes forth to greet his sovereign — 

1 Suit, [Presenting a 'petition to the Gent. U.~\ 

Sir — 1 pray — 

2 Suit My suit is— 

3 Suit, And — sir — mine — 

4 Suit, Hear, I beseech you — 



6 THE DEATH 

2 Gent, Peace, sirs,, such clamour would awake 
the dead — 
Think you by thus outvoicing all the rest 
To gain respect ? You do forget yourself, 
Nor pay due honour to Lord Rizzio's state. 
This is no place for brawling— 

1 Suit To your kindness 
Let me commend my suit: if you but whisper 
The name of Ronald to lord Rizzio's ears. 
Claim me for life your debtor — 

2 Gent, Silence — silence ! 
Lord Rizzio comes — 

[Folding doors flung open. On Rizzio's ad- 
vance, all in silence low before him. After 
a pause, a Suitor speaks aside to the 
2 Gent. Usher.] 

1 Suit. Forget me not— 

2 Gent. My lord, 
This much-deserving man — 

Riz. [interrupting him.] I ask'd not of him— 
If justice urge his suit, 'tis freely granted, 
If not, who pleads his cause, bears my displeasure. 

Courtiers. Freely command us. 

Riz. [Aside,"] Worthless all— I know them — 
Deem they me proud r" 'tis their servility, 
And they must reap its bitter fruit — contempt. — 
I thank your zeal, and, I beseech you, sirs, 
Bear me not blame that I reject your service : 
My gracious sovereign's bounty far o'erpays 
His servant's utmost efforts. 



OF DARNLEY. 7 

Suitors, [presenting petition.'] Deign to cast 
On these our humble suits an eye of favour. 

Biz. [to a servant.] Receive, and in my chamber 
duly place them. 
They shall not be neglected — 
Our gracious sovereign will each wrong redress : 
Each merit recompense. — [Ruthven enters. 

Earl Ruthven here ! 
'Tis an unlock' d for honour — 

Ruth. Bid these hence : 

We must have secret conference. 

Riz. My friends, 

Retire ! [All but Rizzio and Ruthven depart.} — My 

lord, I scarce can doubt the cause 
Which brings you at this hour to Rizzio's roof; 
Nor would I lightly hazard your displeasure : 
But, if your word — I mean not to offend— 
Breathe aught disloyal, aught that slightly touches 
The honour, peace, nay pleasure of my sovereign, 
Spare me the utterance — 

Ruth. If to reconcile 

Her father's son, the brother of her blood 
To his high-honour'd sovereign, if to bring 
The sigh of deep repentance to her ear, 
If to lay prostrate at her throne, the chieftain 
Whose power has strength to shake it, deem you this 
Disloyal or ungrateful, I will spare you 
Th J unwelcome utterance — 

Riz. I entreat you, speak — 

Ruth. I will not idly dwell upon the past ; 
Fierce feuds, and civil wars that long have fill'd 



8 THE DEATH 

The realm with woe. — -Enough, that now Earl 

Murray, 
Mov'd by just sense of his acknowledg'd error — 

Riz. [interrupting .] His guilt — rebellion — 

Ruth, To his sovereign's mercy 

Submits, if Rizzio, by strong motives sway'd, 
Will plead in his behalf — -The hour's most urgent: 
This day, the council meet, the states, to-morrow : 
The ban and proclamation are gone forth ; 
Earl Murray must in person now appear, 
Answering the accusation, or await 
A traitor's doom. Your counsel, sir, all know it, 
Much moves the sovereign — Name your terms, 

command them, 
Wealth, office, honours — Here we are alone- 
Take this rare gem, [offering a ring.] sure pledge of 

Murray's friendship, 
And mine, and Morton's favour. 

Riz. No, my lord ; 

I will not touch that pledge — yet, would to heav'n 
That Rizzio's words had power to reunite 
The realm in bonds of peace ! But, how persuade 
The queen to look on Murray ? Tho' her soul 
Incline to mercy, yet, too freshly bleeds 
The wound inflicted by a brother's hand — 
Deep weighs upon her heart that day, when Murray, 
Her father's son, her once-lov'd brother, rais'd 
His arm in battle, from her realm to drive 
His sovereign, and with murderous hand unthrone 
The youth her soul adores. 

Ruth. Rizzio, reflect, 



OF DARNLEY. 9 

Tho' keen your glance,, and vers'd in courtly ways. 
It cannot read the heart. Those worshippers. 
Light flutterers in life's sunshine, on whose lip 
Insidious flattery speaks in borrow'd smiles, 
Will in your need forsake you. — Sir, Earl Murray 
Has powerful friends, while you, in this rude realm, 
By jealousy and hate encompass'd, dwell 
A solitary stranger ? 

Riz. Courts Earl Ruthven 

A solitary, stranger ? 

Ruth. Hear, rash man ! 

Take Ruth yen's proffer'd hand, or dread his ven- 
geance. 
Rizzio, the choice is thine— 

Riz. No — honour, duty, 

Faith, gratitude, forbid — The Earl's return 
Would but revive a flame that must be quench'd 
In royal blood. + 

Ruth. Art thou resolv'd ? 

Riz. I am. 

Ruth. Ill-fated man ! be Murray now restor'd, 
Or, I forewarn thee, slave, when next we meet, 
Beware of Ruthven. [Ruthven goes. 

Riz. Ha ! 



Messenger enters. 

Mes. My lord — the man — 

His name I know not — He, who oft, in secret, 
By night here meets you, seeks admittance. 

Riz. Go ! 



10 THE DEATH 

Conduct him hither— -[Mess, returns with Lindsay, 
Hence — [to the Mess. 

We are alone — [to Lindsay. 
Speak freely, faithful Lindsay — 

Lincl. Look on this, [a paper. ~\ 

My lord, ere yet you seek the royal presence. 
Strictly peruse this statement : it concerns 
More than yourself: a kingdom's weal's at hazard. 

Biz. [perusing the statement^ Earl Murray, and 
Elizabeth conjoind ! 
[Reads on.~\ Morton and Randolph leagu'd ! — 
Perfidious traitors ! 

Lind. Soon shall their guilt be manifest. 

Riz. Good Lindsay ! 

Thro' all their wiles pursue them, and expose 
To the clear light of day the dark recesses 
Of Morton's guileful mind— Trace out this plot, 
And claim of me large recompense — 

Lind. My lord ; 

My friends, tho' few, are firm and eagie-ey'd. 
There are, 'neath Morton's roof, men gained by 

gold, 
Who move at my disposal.— -If I err not 
You shall obtain, ere night, ere close of council, 
Sure proofs of their conspiracy. [Lindsay goes. 

Riz. Farewell — 

How ? how escape their vengeance ? — I must 

perish — 
My spirit is o'erpower'd : guile after guile, 
Treason on treason — Here, designing Randolph, 
Fit instrument of dark Elizabeth, 



OF DARNLEY. 11 

In compact with insidious Morton, labours 

My sov'reign's vow'd destruction : daring Murray 

There meditates fierce inroad on her kingdom. 

Without, impending horrors, and within 

Factions and feuds and treachery — Barbarous 

realm ! 
Farewell ! Where'er I pass, hate, envy, malice 
Pursue my step, and every blameless deed 
Brand with unjust detraction.— I'll depart — 
But how bid thee farewell ; thou, o'er whose sceptre 
In vain sweet Mercy bends, attempering justice : 
Thou, who o'er this dark realm in vain pour'st 

forth 
The bright illumination of thy soul, 
A sun that gleams on frozen solitudes, 
Lighting up tracts of horror : gracious mistress ! 
How leave thee to their wiles? Yet — Rizzio's 

murder 
Beneath thy palace roof would fill thy soul 
With horror and deep anguish — Be thou spar'd 
That aggravated woe ! I'll quit the realm — 
Yet, ere I go for ever, tho' each word 
Will pierce her heart, yet must I bear, perforce, 
The king's contemptuous answer — much-wrong'd 

sov'reign ! 
How will the scene which ends thy suff'rings close ? 

[Exit. 



12 THE DEATH 

Scene changes to BothwelVs House. 

BOTHWELL. 

Both. Deem they, dull fools, that Bothwell 

tamely labours 
To work their petty ends ? A crown I grasp at, 
And her who wears it : no light acquisition, 
Nor by light deeds achiev'd — day after day 
Matures my high-rais'd hopes — Can Scotland's 

queen, 
Whose peerless charms and rare accomplishments 
From the wide world claim homage, still submit 
To cold neglect, and the capricious humours 
Of a vain stripling ? who now likes, now loaths, 
Shifting his fancies with each transient moment. 
Where now his haunt ? not with his beauteous 

consort 
In royal palaces : yon lonely roof 
Conceals this phantom king : his guards, the 

grooms 
That wait on his low sports ; the hawk and hound, 
And the field's idle labours. — Crafty Morton ! 
I know thee well, that thou canst sound the heart 
And draw its secrets forth : — thou dost suspect 
My daring aim : thine too has not escaped me — 
My power must aid them : Both well's pow'r must 

compass 
Earl Murray's pardon, yea, and their advancement. 
Shall I then meanly limit the reward 



OF DARNLEY. 13 

That waits such service ? — They shall crown my 

hope 
To its overflowing height. 



Page enters. 

Page. My lord — 

Both. Well, boy ! 

Page. The masque but waits your word — I hear 
the prelude, 
Shrill pipe and tabret temper'd to the ring 
Of harp and cymbal, and melodious swell 
Of the sweet-voic'd recorders — 

Both. Go, my boy, 

Away — and like wing'd Zephyr quaintly rob'd, 
Lead the gay masque, and on the Queen's approach 
These rhymes present: [gives him a letter:] and say, 

" the crowned Moor 
Who yesterday, at tournay, in her presence, 
Unhors'd the giant Frenchman, and proclaimed 
Proud Scotland's Queen the peerless flow'r of beauty, 
Making the challeng'd field confess her charms, 
Now, as a slave, sues at her feet to lay 
The envied prize." Away. 

Page. [Running off ~\ This will delight her. [Exit. 

Both. Were it but this, it were an easy task — 
But not by sports and revels, net by show 
And mimicry of combat, tilt and tournay, 
Must Scotland's Queen be won : by ruthless war, 
By deeds more fell than battle, deeds of murder, 
That prize must be achiev'd, if true the beldam 



14 THE DEATH 

Who watch'd my fated birth, and o'er my cradle 
Mutter'd strange horrors. 



Hepburn enters. 

Hepburn ! — Wherefore here ? 
Why thus uncalled ? 

Hep. The cause, my Lord, I trow, 
Will more than justify my bold intrusion. 
The gray-hair'd man, the shepherd, that fam'd seer, 
Whom you in vain so oft have sought to question, 
Is once again return'd. 

Both. Mean you hoar Donald ? 
Is it indeed gray Donald ? 

Hep. 'Tis that shepherd, 
He whom we call the Prophet of the Isles. 
His beard is whiter than the new-fall'n snow. 
He is once more return'd : all flock around him ! 
And some bow down before him : yet there are 
Who cannot bear his aspect, when he fixes 
His broad eye on them. 

Both. Why not here ? — You knew 
How anxiously I sought him. 

Hep. Good, my Lord, 
I did entreat him earnestly ; I said, 
A Lord of pow'r — I did not name Earl Bothwell, 
W'ould lavishly reward him. He replied not, 
But shook his silver locks, and seem'd to smile 
Half pitying, half in scorn. 

Both. Bid Hay close watch 
His path — Prepare my Moorish robes ; and, Hepburn, 



OF DARNLEY. 15 

Let all my train be summoned to attend me 

In Eastern pomp — Away [he goes.'] — That seer, 

hoar Donald, 
All know it well — the kingdom far and near 
Yet rings of it — did speak of Beaton's death, 
Yea, and the manner of the cardinal's murder, 
Ere he who shed his blood had plann'd the deed. 
He comes in happiest hour : he shall unfold 
Th'uncertain issue of these dark events, 

Morton enters unperceived. 

Shall speak of Bothwell's crown, of Bothwell's 

wedlock 
With his soul's sovereign. 

Mor. {overhearing hint."} Ha ! 'tis as I thought. 
I'll break the charm — Health to the brave Earl 
Bothwell. 

Both. Earl Morton ! Pardon my uncourteous 
seeming: — - 
Forgive — I heard you not — 

Mor. No, you were list'ning 

To your own words : words that the heart disclose — 
Beware— 

Both. My lord, how mean you ? 

Mor. Nay— but this, 

That Bothwell's inmost thoughts are known to all. 

Both. Are they so common that the public tongue 
May freely descant on ? 

Mor. The very stones 

That pave our city ring of gallant Bothwell — 



16 THE DEATH 

Ask them whose trumpet summons to the tournay, 
Enquire who gives the festival,, who leads 
The gay carousal, whose fleet maskers flash 
Like sun-beams up and down the dazzled streets ? 
One answer cries, ff Lord Bothwell."-— 

Both. Truce, my lord^ 

No more of this — 'Twas not for this, I know, 
To waste the idle hour, and loosely prattle 
Of revelry and feast, and gay carousal, 
You brake upon my privacy. 

Mor, 'Tis true. 

You know the wish that day and night here weighs. 

Both. Yes — to recal Earl Murray. 

Mor. And in this 

I seek, my lord, your powerful aid. In fame, 
In wealth, in arms, what chieftain equals Bothwell ? 
Whose voice more sways our sovereign queen ? 

Both. - Whose ? Rizzio's. 

Mor. At the approach of Bothwell's foot, that 
worm 
Shall rVrink beneath the earth. 

Both. But first 'twill sting me. 

Mor. If by unmanly terror you invite it. 

Both. Unmanly terror ! are those terms well 
weigh 'd ? 
Is it Lord Morton's wish to rouse my anger ? 

Mor. Yes, to its utmost swell : till it o'erflows. 
And like a flood resistless sweeps away 
All that obstructs its fury. 

Both. Cease this trifling. 

What would you with Lord Bothwell ? 



OF DARNLEY. IT 

Mor. That Lord Bothwell, 

As friend to friend, would bare his heart to Morton; 
Do but confide in me, and I will steer you 
To jour soul's haven. 

Both. Plainly speak. 

Mor. The king 

Affects you much. 

Both. The king, my Lord, 'tis true, 

For that I love the chase, and with him commune 
In well-bred phrases of the hunter's craft, 
Of goss-hawk and of grey-hound, and can wind 
Smoothly the bugle horn, and know the coverts 
Where harts are harbour'd, and the roe-buck bedded, 
Frequents my company. What then ! 

Mor. My Lord, 

Look on these bonds. I every word have weigh'd 
With cool and cautious foresight. This confirms 
Ambitious Darnley's high-rais'd hopes, and binds us 
To fix and guard the matrimonial crown 
On his boy-brow : this we must sign. The other 
By Darnley sign'd, assures the exile's pardu i } 
And to Earl Murray, all his former honours, 
And princely pow'r. The rest, of course, ensues, 
Our favour and advancement. Move, thou canst, 
The king to sign it. 

Both. Well we know, that crowu 

Is Darnley's fix'd desire : but how persuade him 
To fetter his free hand, and here be branded 
Our titled slave ? 

Mor. One artful word — 'tis done, 

A look would fire him. Teach his eye to glance 



18 THE DEATH 

On Rizzio's favour — and — if hints avail not, 
Dwell on his fair queen's minion. To procure 
That minion's murder — if I rightly reckon— 
The king would sign the bond. 

Both. His hand shall sign it. 

To Murray and his friends I am inclined : 
You shall not doubt my zeal. With this good sword. 
At hazard of my life,, I would make smooth 
His way to all his pow'r, so, in return, 
Earl Murray and his friends would — > 

Mor. [interrupting!] Favour BothwelL 

I am his pledge, I answer for Earl Murray. 
What are thy views ? 

Both. When Darnley enter'd Scotland., 

What was his wish ? 

Mar. To wed the queen. 

Both. No doubt. 

And is it not, I pray, most right and fitting, 
That he who weds the queen, e'en at his pleasure 
Should rule the kingdom, if his rule restore 
The Earl and his adherents, and advance 
To pow'r and honours those who hold your faith : 
And — further— by the royal seal assure 
To you, my good Lord Morton, and your followers. 
The abbies rich possessions. Is not this 
Fit rule and government ? and such a ruler 
The idol of your worship ? 

Mor. Such a ruler 

Would prove a nation's blessing. 

Both. Further — say, 

Should death untimely sweep this Darnley off, 



OF DARNLEY. HI 

Would you not kindly urge my suit to sooth 
The beauteous mourner's woe,, and her fair hand 
Ease of the sceptre's weight ? 

Mor. The crown and sov 'reign, 

If Ruthven's, Morton's, Murray's pow'r avail, 
Shall grace Earl Bothwell. 

Both. Hand to hand., my lord, 

We understand each other. Now — farewell — 
I now in eastern pomp — such this day's sports — 
Seek whom my soul adores. [Bothwell goes.] 

Mor. 'Tis death thou seek'st-— 

Bothwell — beware. Beneath thy flow'ry path, 
On watch, with gasping throat, and eye of lire, 
A gilded serpent lies. There shalt thou perish, 
Proud man ! and on thy ruin Murray tow'r. 



END OF ACT THE FIRST. 



20 THE DEATH 

ACT II. SCENE I. 

The Queen's Apartment. 

Groups of Musicians, Singers, Dancers, BothwelV* 
Page habited like Zephyr. 

Page. This is the order. At the queen's first 
entrance,, 
In silence lay jour garlands at her feet, 
Then — rise at waving of my wand. And— you— 

[Addressing the different groups, 
With lute, and cymbal, and the soft-breath'd reed. 
Salute her : you — attemper'd to the music, 
Match your clear notes : and, you, my sprightly 

play- mates, 
In cadence to the song and music, mix 
Your fleet steps in the many-figur'd dance, 
Where Zephyr sports with Flora. 

[The Queen and Countess o/Argyle enter 
in state, with a courtly retinue. At her 
entrance the masque of Zephyr and Flora 
begins. The Queen on her throne at first 
looks on the dance, but soon sinks back in 
seeming woe.] 

C. of Ar. A rare masque ! 

My gracious sov'reign ! deign to view their revels. 



OF DARNLEY. 21 

See, like gay-coloured clouds that float around 
The sun's bright car, their light limbs glance 

before us, 
One gracious look vouchsafe them. 

Page. [To the maskers ] Here pay homage. 

[Kneels to the Queen. They all kneel. 
Arise — blend, blend anew the foot and voice ! 

C. of Ar. [To the Queen] Such revels once had 
pow'r to fill your fancy 
With sprigbtliest images. 

Queen. [After a long pause ] Why are ye fled, 
Ye days so fair, so fleet, that o'er me gleam'd 
Like an enchanted dream ? Why fled away 
And never know return ? 

C. of Ar. Cease, cease the dance — 

The queen is troubled. 

Queen. Bear with me, my sister. 

Tho' on my ear their song breath 'd melody, 
Sweet as the night's lone warbler's, tho' the dance 
Of fabled fairies on the moon-light dews, 
Scarce quaintlier than their circles, yet these sports 
But breathe of pleasures past, and on the heart 
Press like an added misery. With such revels, 
Such winning fantasies, Love woo'd my smile 
In the green bow'rs of France. [To the maskers, ,] 

Thanks, gentle friends ! 
Let not th' untimely woe that dims my day, 
Eclipse your cloudless sun-shine Say, fair page, 
Or, must I rather name you the wing'd herald 
That welcomes in the spring ? Say, gentle Zephyr, 
Whose is this brave device ? 



%% THE DEATH 

Page. [Page kneeling presents Bothwett's rhymes.] 

Here — royal lady. 
These rhymes may haply tell. The crowned Moor, 
Who yesterday at tournay, in your presence, 
Unhors'd the giant Frenchman, and proclaim'd 
Proud Scotland's queen, the peerless flow'r of beauty, 
Making the challeng'd field confess her charms, 
Now, prostrate at her foot-stool, sues to lay 
The envied prize. 

Queen. Such suit was ne'er denied. 

[Page goes out. 

[Bothwell, as a Moorish king, enters with a 
stately retinue, kneels, and lays the tournay 
prize at the Queen's feet, .] 

Queen. Rise, gallant Moor! and, if a lady's plume 
May grace a warrior's helm, and if you deem 
The conqueror repaid, whom Scotland's queen 
Her champion names, champion of Scotland's queen, 
Earl Bothwell, rise I 

Both. My wealth, my power, my friends, 

My life^ my soul, command them. May I bid 
These from your presence ? 

Queen. Wherefore ? 

Both. I would fain 

Alone address you. 'Tis no idle speech 
That claims my soy 'reign's ear. 

Queen. Another time. 

Both. Danger and death surround you. 

Queen. I can front them. 



OF DARNLEY. 23 

Both. Bothwell shall guard bis sovereign. Royal 
lady, 
The traveller who haunts untrodden wilds 
Where fierce beasts prowl, at evejy step, by day 
Casts round his path fear's searching glance, at night 
Circles his couch with fire. Full fain would Bothwell 
Be to thy day a sun, whose beam before you 
Lights all the way : and, ever- more by night 
Watch as th' undying flame, that o'er the altar 
From profanation and rude touch unblest, 
Guards the adored image. 

Rizzio enters. 

Queen. Rizzio— 

Have you then seen the king ? 

Riz. I bear his words. 

The public must not hear them, 

Both. [Aside.] How she greets him ! 

See — interchange they not familiar smiles ? 
Insidious sycophant ! 

Queen. Go, faithful Rizzio, 

Say to that gallant knight, a fitter time 
May claim his audience. 

Riz. My Lord Bothwell— 

Both. [Interrupting him.] Cease 

I mark'd each word : you need not echo it ; 
'Twill not receive new graces from your utterance. 
Your champion, [to the Queen.'] at the council, 

gracious lady, 
Will so sustain your throne, that Scotland's queen 



24 THE DEATH 

Will not, methinks, there chase him from her presence. 
Stranger ! [7b Rizzio ^\ beware : the natives of this 

realm 
Are a proud race, Our nobles brook not tamely 
The rule and nod of minions. 

[Bothwell and Maskers depart. 

Queen. Go, my friends ! 

Leave me with Rizzio. Gentle Countess, stay : 
To thee my soul its inmost thoughts entrusts. 
Speak— [lb Rizzio, ,] nought conceal. 

Riz. 'Twill stab you to the heart. 

Queen. Perpetual woe has chill'd it. I had once 
A heart that keenly felt. Oh Darnley, Darnley ! 
Look on me, I entreat you, as a flow'r 
On whose fast-fading leaves, ere fully blown, 
The snow-storm has descended, and sore shatter'd 
In its first fragrance— On its stalk it withers 
Reckless of show'r and sunshine — Such I am. 
Thy sovereign bids thee speak. — Why pause? 

Biz. The king 

Is link'd with traitors — and-— 

Queen, [interrupting him.] Bad men deceive him; 
Not yet this heart is stone— Why quit me, Darnley ? 
Why leave the shelter of these guardian arms ? 
And will he not comply with my request? 
Not that lone roof abandon ? It disgraces 
Alike his state and mine — 

Biz. The king no more 

Returns to Holy-rood — 

Queen. What then am 1 ? 



OF DARNLEY. 25 

Some loathsome object ? - But — He loves you not — 
Ho! Siward— 

Siward enters. 

With this man, this skillful horseman, 
Alone of all the train who tend my person 
Will he at times deign conference. Go, Siward : 
With reverence — with entreaty — with submission — 
And, is it come to this ? — Bad men betray him — 
Oh ! he is new to life, in the first bloom 
Of guileless youth, quiek-passion'd, slightly mov'd, 
And in the world's dark mazes all unskilled — ■ 
I will not leave him to their wiles a prey — 
My prayers, my tears may move him — I must see 

him. 
Once, once his Mary's voice had pow'r to sway him : 
Again these arms shall shelter him, again 
My Henry on this bosom shall repose. 
Say- 

Siw. Whom must I address, my royal mistress ? 
Queen. Did I not name your sov'reign ? Go, good 

Siward, 
Address the king : 

Entreat him to return : say, that all honour, 
Proud retinue, and pomp, and royal state 
Shall gratulate his coming — [Siwai^d goes.^ This, 

at least 
Will sooth his pride — His pride ! — and what am I ? 
To be rejected, scorn'd ! — Ungrateful youth, 
Hast thou forgotten all ? Thy words, thy vows 
Yet vibrate on my heart: each graceful feature 



26 THE DEATH 

Still warmly glowing there. — Rizzio, you urg'd not 
With fondness my request, but coldly bore 
A tutor'd speech— 

His. No— fervently I urg'd it— 

Zeal lent my lip its eloquence— In truth 
I could not choose but say, how leave those charms, 
Charms, which uncrowned, unscepter'd, well might 

move 
The masters of the world to wage fierce contest. 
I could not choose but say, who hails his sovereign, 
The proudest chieftain who draws nigh the throne 
Feels honour'd in his homage — Then I dwelt 
On Arran, Scotland's heir, whose eagle eye 
Gaz'd on the sun, till reason all-o'erpowVd 
Melted beneath the blaze— While yet I spake, 
The king, who first all graciously, methought, 
Had bow'd his ear, while from his eye-lid stole 
A tear of fond regret, on sudden fir'd 
By scornful rage, exclaimed, " Slave, tell thy mis- 
tress 
" The king prefers yon solitary roof 
ec To Holy-rood's polluted court, the haunt 
" Of low-born minions — 

Queen. Ha ! 

Riz. [Aside.) I'll quit the realm : 

Rizzio shall never give her soul displeasure — 
I liv*d but in her sun-shine. — Gracious mistress, 
Whose kindness ne'er thy servant's pray'r denied, 
Now giant my last request — [kneels.") 

Queen. Why kneel ? Arise — 

You, you alone of all who court my favour 



' OF DARNLEY. 27 

I still have found most loyal. — What thy suit ? 
What wish you — wealth, or pow'r, or added 

honour ? 
Demand it — 

Biz. No — obscurity and peace — 

I pray your patience — He, who now entreats you, 
Had birth 'mid rocks and mountains, on whose brow 
Th'eternal snows have rest, in a green vale 
Whereshepherds tend their flocks,inthe brief season 
When summer looks on Alpine solitudes. 
Lady, the birth-place of the mountaineer 
Is twin'd around the heart — We may, at times, 
In the pursuit of wealth and pow'r, forget it, 
But 'tis within the heart : and if, perchance, 
We hear the horn that calld the herd to pasture, 
Or catch a rude note of the green corn-pipe 
That breathes our native melodies, each day 
Hour after hour, consum'd by fond regret 
We waste away, no more revisiting 
The spot where first our naked footstep sported — 
Do not deny me : let me there return, 
And close the remnant of life's troublous day 
In privacy and peace — 

Queen. None left on earth 

In whom my soul may blamelessly confide? 
Arm'd guards my state surround, beneath my sight 
Where'er I gaze obsequious courtiers kneel, 
And wide and general as the air, the breath 
Of flatterers hails my presence ; yet— in these 
I trust not. On thy faith I firmly rested : 
Wilt thou desert thy sovereign ? — 



28 THE DEATH 

Riss. Never, never ; 

Here let me rather die. — 

Queen. What mean you, Rizzio? 

JRiz. This-— There are men, beneath your palace 
roof, 
Whose daggers will leap forth at sight of Rizzio — 
How shall I 'scape their malice ? 

Queen. First their daggers, 

Shall drink their sovereign's biood — 

Siward enters. 

Ha ! Si ward ! speak. 

Siw. If, seeming harsh, let not your servant's 
words 
Offend you — I but speak the king's command. 
Say — ic that my hx'd resolve to her is known, 
" My will, in this, unchang'd, unchangeable — 
ee But — that if Scotland's queen this day, at council^ 
ec Obey my word, and at the assembled states 
ec Fix on my brow the crown : I will return : 
ef Else — never." 

Queen. Fix upon his brow the crown ! — 

Would that I might : and that the glowing image 
Which fir'd my fancy, were no vain illusion! 
Angel ! that guard'st this empire, hear my pray'r ! 
Make the exalted youth, by me ador'd, 
The idol of a nation : gift his soul 
W ith pow'r to sway a realm : that I may take 
The crown from off my brow to grace his temples, 
And greatly glory in my self-abasement 



OF DARNLEY. 29 

Heightening his exaltation ! — Scotland's crown 
Is no vain toy to deck the brow of beauty. 
Tis heav'n's high charge : a proud inheritance 
From far-fam'd ancestors., king after king, 
A countless generation. I will guard it. 
Yea, and transmit its honours to my offspring 
With undirninish'd lustre. Siward, bear 
My answer back : say, <c that we meet in council." 

[Siward goes, 

Darnley ! thou might'st have wound thyself by 

kindness 

Into my yielding bosom. Scorn — contemn me — 

Darnley ! thou meet'stat council Scotland's Queen. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene changes to a Suburb of the City. 

Donald. 

Don. I'm o'er-wearied. 
Old age doth lack repose, and other aid 
To prop its weakness than this shepherd's crook. 
My limbs have lost their suppleness, and truly 
'Tis the last time that Donald will be found 
A wanderer from the birth-place of his fathers. 
My old friends here are gone, the young ones vex 
And harass me with questions : and some whisper 
I have a demon, and can raise the dead. 
Poor silly idlers ! here they throng. 



30 THE DEATH 



Common People enter, 

1 Man. Say, prophet, 
Oh you know all. 

2 Man. Tell us 

Bothwell enters disguised, and drives them out. 

Both. Away — begone. 

Don. Why have you driven them hence ? 

Both. Because my soul 

Seeks commune far beyond their silly natures. 
I have long sought you. 

Don. Wherefore ? 

Both. I would fain 

Hold serious conference with you. You foretold 
Proud Beaton's death : and, ere the army's flight, 
Our loss at Solway, when the lords refus'd 
To serve with Sinclair : and — you truly added — ■ 
That our brave king, whose front had fae'd a lion, 
James, would not long that day of shame survive. 
Time-honour'd prophet — 

Don. I am none. You see 

A simple shepherd. 

Both. You are rarely gifted 

With that prophetic quality, which brings 
The shadowy world, and those that tenant it, 
As on a living theatre to act 
Their part before you. Hence, you see me here 
No common suitor : and, I now entreat you 



OF DARNLEY. 31 

To lift the veil up from futurity, 
And in the dark abyss of days to come, 
Point out my fate. 

Don. Why search it out ? Enough, 

Death and dire woes that make the grave a refuge 
Wait thee and all mankind : there too shall Donald 
Rest with his fathers, those who never knew 
That the prophetic curse hung o'er their child ; — 
Or never had the day that saw his birth 
Their blessing heard. Leave me. 

Both. First yield me answer. 

Don. Misjudging mortal ! mark old Donald's 
warning : 
Mark what the burden of the woe laid on him : 
'Tis mine to view in youth's fair-opening flow'r, 
Th' untimely worm that wastes it. I beheld 
My virgin bride, when first I clasp'd her charms. 
Pale in her winding sheet. And now my mind 
Is dark with horrors, such as thou must feel, 
If, ere the hour, thou clearly could'st discern 
The ills that wait on life. Hast thou a hope ? 
Feed on it : does a wish thy pulse-beat quicken ? 
Indulge it, and thy heart will leap with gladness : 
But — whosoe'er thou art, hear, younger man ! 
The fruits of hoar experience : pass thy days 
In trust and resignation on heaven's will, 
But seek not to foreknow what God in mercy 
Has from man's search conceal'd. — 

Both. Answer, or meet 

My vengeful wrath— 

Don. Rash man ! of him enquire 



32 THE DEATH 

Who in the clay whereon he stampt his image 
Breath'd a celestial spirit. At his impulse 
Alone I speak — 

Both. Then, can'st thou not, hoar seer. 

At will call up, retain, dismiss the scenes 
That prescient float before jou ? 

Don. Bid the lake 

That spreads its mirror mid the range of mountains 
Draw down the golden sun, when the pale moon 
And each small star on its dark bosom twinkles: 
Or back recall the feaster and gay bridegroom 
When the slow train of burial o'er it flings 
Its melancholy shadow— Shade on shade 
Succeeds, and passes off — Tims 'tis with me ; 
My mind is as the mirror of that water : 
Before me, forms in swift succession glide, 
And whispers of the names of men unknown : 
Some pass away forgotten, some remain 
Part clear,, in part confus'd ; others there are 
Of that impressive nature, that whene'er 
If but by chance once more I catch a whisper 
Of names so syllabled, or view in life 
A glance of those in vision, the whole scene 
With all th' attendant train of weal and woe 
Perforce starts up before me. 

Both. Has the name 

Of Bothwell, ere so whisper'd, caught thine ear ? 

Don. It rests not on the memory. 

Both. Has thine eye 

In vision of the future e'er beheld 
These features ? [Unveils himself.'] 



OF DARNLEY. 33 

Don. Hence — begone — dark vision., hence ! 

Both. Why groan you.? What my fate ? 

Don. Why, man of blood, 

Why steal you forth in silence and dark midnight ? 
An eye from heav'n beams on thy secret way. 
The mine is laid — is sprung. Saw you the blaze ? 
The pale moon gaz'd upon it, and withdrew 
Curtain' d in blood. Heard you the roar — the crash 
As of infernal thunder that disjoins 
Earth's deep foundations ? The lone roof, the rock 
Whereon its strength found rest, in air are vanish'd. 
There dies the king. 

Both. By hell, he pictures forth 

My secret thought. 

Don. Blow the soft flute — with dance, and song, 
and feast, 
Bring in the royal bride. So young, so fair ; 
Twice, twice a widow ! yet so young, so fair ! 
See how her auburn locks turn silvery grey : 
Untimely chang'd ! see, how the scaffold glows 
With royal blood. Where art thou, , Bothwell ?— 

fled? 
Thou shield a queen ! thou canst not save thyself ! 
Hence, fugitive ! hence, pirate ! 

Both. Wretch! be silent 

Don. Thy lone sail flaps upon a slumberous ocean. 
Speed, they o'ertake thee. 

Both. I will hear no more. 

Peace, madman ! thou wert brib'd to vex my soul. 

Don. Where is the bridegroom now ? 

Both. What bridegroom ! who ? 



34 THE DEATH 

Don, They know him not, a stranger to their realm. 
But I know Bothwell's features in that captive 
Chained in a dungeon, raving. 

Both. [Drawing his dagger."] Madman — hence. 

[Drives him out. 
Thy grey hairs stand between thee and my vengeance. 
Ne'er shall the wanderings of a frantic mind 
Turn Bothwell's spirit from its fixt intent. [Exit. 



BND OF ACT THE SECOND, 



OF DARNLEY. 35 



ACT III. SCENE I. 

Near the Kirk of Field, 

BoTHWELL. 

Both. [Pointing to a lone house.'] There his lone 
roof — fit haunt for such a sovereign ! 

King. [Behind the scenes.] Begone, dull fool ! 

Both, He speaks as one in rage. 

King. [Behind the scenes.] Begone — fail not to 
find him. 

Both. Whence this fury ? 

His roan, perchance, is lame, or favourite falcon 
'Scap'd from the mews. And must I calmly witness 
This boy-king's humours ? yes, I like this mood : 
The easier shall my words pour in his soul 
The venom that empoisons it. 

The King enters, habited like a hunter, with atten- 
dant Falconers , &;c. 

King, [Speaking to one of his Attendants.] Away. 
Atten. I do entreat forgiveness. 
King. By my crown 

I swear — - 

Atten. Oh, pardon. 

King. If you fail to find him, 



6 THE DEATH 

Expect no mercy. Seek me here ere sun-set, 
Or never more the sun shall find you out. 
In the dark dungeon where your days shall close. 
Hence,, all., and aid his search. 

[His Attendants depart* 

Both. What moves your highness. 

King. Dull, senseless wretch ! that noble animal, 
With untir'd foot throughout the summer day 
From sun-rise to the setting of the moon, 
Searching drop after drop the tainted soil, 
O'er marsh and moor, thro' the long forest glades, 
And the dark windings of the under- woods, 
Would tiace the wounded deer, and singly hold 
At bay the antler'd stag. [To Bothwell.~] You know 

my favourite, 
The far-fam'd blood-hound, which the king of 

France, 
My brother, when he decked me with this order, 
Sent with Lord Rambouillet : his choicest breed, 
The staunchest of his pack : that senseless churl 
Loos'd him, but now, in very wantoness : 
He's gone, and none know whither. By my faith, 
I shrewdly do suspect some purse-proud abbot, 
Far fonder of the chase than matin pray'r, 
Has brib'd the villain. 

Both. Pray you, be compos' d, 

The loss, I grant, is heavy : but there are 
Objects of' weightier moment that demand 
Your deepest thoughts : and — -if your majesty— 

King. [Interrupting him.] Bothwell. 

Both. My liege. 



OF DARNLEY. 37 

King. Was it your masks whose revels 

Rung thro' our streets this morn ? 

Both. I pray attend. 

This day the council meets. The cause imports 
The honour of your crown : and if the king 
But grant my suit, here on my knee, I swear, 
Your hand shall wield the sceptre. We will free you 
From the harsh yoke of a capricious woman : 
And — more degrading than that yoke — no longer 
Shall the king's will be thwarted by a slave, 
That sycophant — that minion. 

King, Ha ! 

Both. Your pardon — 

Her favourite, Rizzio — one — 

King. You seem confus'd, 

You have close access to her, haunt her palace. 
Know you why Scotland's queen no more, as once, 
Yields to my will observance ? 

Both. Who can trace 

The mazes of a woman's varying fancy ? 
This mood, and that inclines it : and the sex, 
From mutability itself, extract 
Strange pleasure. Your fair consort can assume 
All characters at will, and seem in each 
As born for that alone. Have we not seen her 
In the brief compass of a day, at council 
Wise as Jove's sapient daughter : then, at court 
In grace and gait a Juno : now, at banquet 
Like Love's gay goddess crown the cup with joy: 
Anon on her war-steed like arm'd Beliona, 
Wielding no woman's weapon ? But — there ,ns 



38 THE DEATH 

Thro* all this pliability of mood,, 

Fix'd in her heart — ^How shall I rightly name it ? 

Taste— instinct — sympathy ? 

King. Nay, speak. 

Both. My liege, 

It cannot have escap'd you. If the queen 
Catch the sweet concord of harmonious sounds, 
Or wild note of a natural melody, 
A reed soft-breathed, or lightly-finger'd lute, 
How will the sound draw forth her very soul. 
Till every sense, as touch'd by strange enchantment,, 
Dissolves in sweet forgetfulness : the while 
On her soft-heaving bosom tears will glide. 
Shed in delicious agony. My liege, 
I have forgot the time, tell me, I pray, 
Since when, the man from Savoy, the musician, 
Came to this court a stranger, 

King, [Aside.'] Means he that ? 

Sometimes; — it came across me — I confess — 
If it be so, not hell itself can hold 
The fiend that rages here. Nay — give it vent. 

Both. Your wealthiest nobles envy that man's 
treasure. 

King. Give it at once the utterance. Is she false? 

Both .Who loves the lute or smoothly -breathed reed^ 
Or warble of a dulcet voice, no doubt 
Cannot dislike the hand which tunes the chord, 
Or scorn the lip that lends the ilute and song 
Their modulated melody, 

King. 'Tis clear. 

Both. What? 



OF DARNLEY. 39 

King, Thou hast said that Darnlej's wife 

loves Rizzio. 
Give me thy dagger. 

Both. Not in that hot mood. 

First, be assured — the king hath friends. But, sire, 
Were it not better, first by soothing flattery, 
Once more to win your way into her heart ? 
You have of late neglected her. My liege, 
Your looks — your smiles — asmilefromonesograc'd, 
May fire the coldest bosom — then demand, 
As proof of love, this Rizzio's exile. 

King. [Interrupting Mm.'] Life. 

Both. And— if denied — there are bold fiery spirits, 
Men, whom the minion's insolence and scorn 
Have grievously offended, One I know, 
A chief of daring valour. 

King. Who ? 

Both. Bold Ruthven : 

Nor hard the task, my liege, to gain his aid. 
Vouchsafe a gracious look on these : [the Bonds. 

these bonds, 
Devis'd by cautious Morton. This secures 
Your rightful claim, and on your brow encircles 
The matrimonial crown : and, if th' offence 
And the king's wounded honour urge the deed, 
Here, in this bond, shall Ruthven pledge his faith, 
At thy command, to free th' indignant realm 
Of that base minion. This, my liege, when sanction'd 
By your authority, to Murray grants 
Free grace and pardon. 

King. Rizzio shall not live. 



40 THE DEATH 

Both. Sign this,, — the minion dies. Be this but 
signed 

The banish'* d lords shall kneel before thy throne, 
Guilt flings the woman on her husband's mercy. 
And thou art — sovereign. 

King. [Takes the bond."] At the council's close, 
At entrance of the queen's apartment meet me. 
The slave shall die : my word shall give the warrant. 

[Exit. 

Both. The hope that hung upon my gifted birth 
In golden prospect, opens fair before me. 
'Tis fated — 'tis decreed — I wed the queen. 
Let me but grasp the sceptre, fiend of darkness ! 
Nor fraud nor force shall hurl me from the throne. 

\_ExiU 

Scene the Second. Rizzio' s Apartment. 

Rizzio. 

Biz. Ere yet the council close — so Lindsay pro- 
mis'd — 
Their guilt shall be expos'd. The time now urges : 
Ere this, the lords who favour Murray, all, 
Now at unwonted hour in council meet, 
By the king's urgent summons. Hapless youth ! 
How bright thy dawn of day, how clouded o'er 
By pride and erring passion ! ah, that Rizzio 
Might, at life's sacrifice, confound the traitors 
That urge thee on to ruin. 



OF DARNLEY. 41 



Lindsay enters. 



Lindsay ! 

Lincl. [Presents papers.^ Here — 

Here are the proofs : their guilt is manifest. 
These are the transcripts of their bonds r observe 

them : 
Thus interlin'd by Morton. No light treasure, 
Nor trivial risque procur'd them. 

Riz. [Considering them .] 'Tis his hand — 

I reck not how obtain'd, nor what the bribe 
That counterpois'd the hazard. Here, at midnight 
Seek me again. Ho ! 

Servant enters. 

Let my train be summon'd. 
If I but gain admittance to the queen, 
At public council, in the royal presence, 
These shall convict the traitors. 

Lincl. Nay—beware — 

Your life's at hazard. 

Riz Be it sacrific'd. 

Be Scotland's sovereign sav'd — let Rizzio perish 1 

[Exeunt. 



42 THE DEATH 



Scene the Third. The Council Room. 

The King on his throne, in state. Ruthven, 
Lords, fyc. 

King. Well met, my lords. Are all assembled ? 
No— 
I ask not of Lord Bothwell : his high charge 
Awhile delays him : but — Earl Morton absent, 
No cause assign'd. What means it ? well we know 
His wisdom, his experience, his authority 
O'er all bear powerful sway. Lord Ruthven, answer, 
You share his bosom secrets. 

Morton enters much agitated. 

Mor. My dread liege, 

I pray your pardon— no light cause detained me. 
Would that the traitor now in tortures writh'd 
Before my sight ! 

King. Why thus incens'd ? Lord Morton^ 

We are not wont to see you slav'd by passion. 

Mor. Your majesty — Lord Ruthven — here, apart. 
JFirm as these are, and faithful to our cause, 

[They come forward. 
They must not catch my whispered words. 

King. Speak freely. 

Mor. The tfanrscripts of those bonds which Both- 
well's zeal 



OF DARNLEY. 43 

Gave to your highness, some domestic traitor 
Has from my roof purloin 'd. The public eye 
Must not glance on them. 

King. Be compos'd : this bond [Producing it. 
Is yet unsign'd. But — if the imperious queen 
Yield not — her minion — Ruthven — [Stops in doubt, 

Ruth. Say, my liege. 

King. Ere a new day, at midnight, in her chamber, 
This night— you understand me ! in her chamber, 
That very chamber where with lute and song 
They interchange their love-sighs. 

[Flourish of trumpets* 

Hark, those trumpets 1 

The queen, the queen draws nigh, my lords, be seated. 

[ The Queen enters in state, Both well bear- 
ing her sword. Heraldsy Guards, $c. 
Jill j save the King, rise: the Queen, in 
passing to her throne, salutes the King.] 

Queen. I greet your highness. It was my intent 
First to have met the council, and here waited 
The king's arrival. Speak your grace's will, 
Whether Earl Murray's banishment, or England 
Shall first engage our care. 

King. Let England first 

Be heard, thro' her embassador. 

Queen. Go, heralds : 

And duly usher to the royal presence 
The lord embassador, Sir Thomas Randolph, 
Bearer of England's terms. 



44 THE DEATH 



Randolph enters in state, and kneels to the throne. 

Ran. I humbly greet 

Your majesties. 

King. My lord, arise, declare 

Your queen's, our sister's pleasure. 

Queen. How ! her pleasure 1 

King. It needs no tedious preface. 

Queen. Why compel me 

To seeming disrespect, or base desertion 
Of heavens high charge ? My lord embassador. 
The terms of England's queen must be addrest 
To Scotland's sov'reign ruler. 

King. Who am I ? , 

Queen. My lord — my husband, whom I love and 
honour. 
But there are public duties which compel 
The soul to their subjection. I stand here 
An ancient kingdom's representative, 
Sole sov'reign of the realm. In me, my nation, 
'Tis Scotland must be honour'd. Say, my lord, 
The purport of your mission. 

Han. England's sov'reign 

Sends health, and love, and amity to Scotland. 
Be all the past forgotten : peace, henceforth, 
Perpetual, Other terms than these we seek not, 
That our beloved sister, Scotland's queen, 
The king, her nobles, and her states attesting, 
With her own hand and signature, confirm 
The peace once vow'd at Edinburgh. 



OF DARNLEY. 45 

Queen. Never. 

King. It meets our approbation. 

Queen. Say not so : 

Repeat not that the king to this consents. 
'Tis to resign — my birthright. 

Ran. So v 'reign lady, 

Be this renew'd, and firmly ratified, 
Thro' me my royal mistress plights her oath, 
That the free suffrage of her parliament 
Shall by the laws and statutes of our realm, 
Determine the succession. 

Queen. No, my lord : 

Your parliament may in its balance weigh 
The subject's petty claims : mine must be weigh'd 
By him who in his balance pois'd the world, 
And severing the nations, gave to each 
Peculiar blessings : to the south, fair suns, 
The maize, and jocund vine, and fruitful olive : 
To Scotland, glens, and friths, and heath-clad 

mountains, 
And 'mid bleak rocks, bold hands, and dauntless 

hearts, * 

Freedom and independence. Of that race 
I sprang: and, first in blood to England's monarchs, 
If England's queen go childless to the tomb, 
I claim, what none can change, by right divine 
The sov'reignty, my birthright. 

King. [Impatient] We will sign it ; 

Give me the treaty. A king's hand shall sign it. 

Queen. If not self-reverence, nor my dignity, 
Nor Scotland's glory aught avail, yet — 'Henry ! 



46 THE DEATH 

Pause! When thy hand has sign'd that deed of 

shame, 
It signs away the rights of one unborn, 
The sacred rights of one whose lips 5 first utterance 
Will call thee father. By that honoured name 
I now address thee : by that hallow'd union 
Which heav'ri has sanctioned, by those tender ties 
That twine the infant round the parent's heart : 
By that which gives the dove and timid hind 
The lion's spirit to defend their young. 
Sign not that deed of shame. King ! husband ! 

hear me : 
Father ! protect thy child ! 

King. [Aside.'] Fix on my brow 

The matrimonial crown — 

Queen. The states confer it. 

It rests not on my word — 

King. I am thy scorn ±— 

Sign this— or never look to see me more. 

Queen. Farewell ! — The sovereign may resign 
her sceptre, 
The mother *hever will desert her child — 

King. I am resolv'd. A so v 'reign thus confirms it.' 

[Signs it. 
My lords, subscribe this treaty. Who refuse, 
I hold alike foes to their king and country. 

[All but Bothwell sign it. 

Queen. Let me behold their signatures. [Considers 
them.'] Oh I Scotland ! 
All, all but one, have sign'd it— - 

Both. And that one 



OF DARNLEY. 47 

Had rather from his arm this right hand sever, 
Than sign a deed dishonouring Scotland's queen — 
I may not utter in the royal presence 
All that my heart contains : but, I will say 
That, save my lord the king, all else, whate'er 
Their rank, birth, office, whose recorded names 
Attest that deed, are to their queen and country 
Recorded — Traitors — 

Ruth, [starting up.~] Traitors ! — 

Queen, [rising!] Peace, Earl Ruthven ! 

My lord embassador, return to England, 
And bear my words : — that rather than degrade 
The pride and majesty of Scotland's crown, 
The crown of many ages :— ere consent 
To sacrifice the rights of one unborn, 
The child whose blessed lip first calls me mother^ 
I, at the imperious will of England's queen 
Would gladly perish. — To this public insult, 

[holding up the treaty. 
This ignominious treaty, in whose record 
No eye on earth shall e'er again behold 
My husband's shame, bear back the sole reply 
That honour warrants. [The Queen tears and scatters 
the treaty.] This— Farewell ! with England 
We hold no further conference—- 

[Embassador departs. 

Messenger enters. 

Mcs. [to the Queen!] , Gracious sovereign ! 

Thy servant, Rizzio, earnestly implores 



48 THE DEATH - 

Immediate audience. — Subjects of; high import 
Urge his entreaty — 

Queen. Will jour grace permit it ? 

King. You favour him in private— Must he mix 
In our state secrets ? 

Queen. Favour him in private ! 

The man, tho' lowly born, is highly minded, 
Wise., zealous, firm, in service strictly faithful : 
Therefore with liberal and unsparing hand 
His merits I have recompens'd. Yet, truly, 
If it displease your highness to admit him, 
I will in secret hear him. 

Ruth. [To the king.'] My dread liege, 
The snake that we behold not surest strikes. 
Let him appear before us. 

Mor. [Aside to the king.'] Grant him audience, 
Rely on Morton. What this favourite utters 
Shall turn to his confusion. 

King. Let him enter. — 

Rizzio enters. 

Advance not. Speak thy purpose, and depart. 
And — I forewarn you, let the cause, bold stranger, 
Warrant this rash intrusion. 

Queen. Faithful Rizzio, 

Stand nigh my throne. 

King. Be brief. 

Riz. I pray your patience : 

I will not long detain you ; nor again 
Shall Rizzio give the realm and king offence ; 



OF DARNLEY. 49 

For — haply — ere yon sun has clos'd his course. 
Nought, save an evanescent name, will mark 
That Rizzio once had being'. Let me then 
Thus prostrate at your throne, my gracious mistress, 
Here publicly proclaim, that to your kingdom 
A low-born stranger came, that on his zeal 
So shone the royal favour, that this wanderer, 
This out-cast of the world, who here at last 
Had found a home, a country, for that country 
Felt what a patriot feels, and freely offer'd 
His life a sacrifice to shield the sov'reign, 
And Scotland's realm from ruin. [Rizzio rises. 

King ! unseal 
Your eyes : behold the throne encompass'd round 
With treachery and treason. 

Ruth. [Starting up, draws his dagger.] Silence — 
Slave ! 

Mor. [Staying him, aside.] Not now the time. 

Riz. [Delivers to the Queen the transcripts of the 
bonds.] Receive, my gracious mistress, 

The last, last tribute of thy grateful servant, 
These bonds. 'Tis Rizzio's farewell legacy. 
These, underneath Earl Morton's roof, were found. 
Earl Morton fully can the rest unfold. 

Mor. How found ? 

Riz. Suffice not these ? you see the proofs. 

Mor. Who brought them ? 

Riz. Never shall my voice reveal 

His name who brought them. For his truth I answer. 

Queen, [attentively considering them.] 'Tis Mor- 
ton's hand. Fix on the king my crown ! 

£ 



50 THE DEATH 

Recall Earl Murray ! does my lord the king 
Know of these dark designs ? 

Mor. Let Morton answer. 

These are forg'd instruments. 

Queen. [To Morton.] I'll prove the truth. 

Thy faith or guilt shall now be clearly shown. 
Give him the deed [To the Secretary.] that dooms 

to banishment 
Or death, the rebels. As the act of all, 
Sign it, Earl Morton, else — thou art a traitor. 

Ruth. [Aside.'] Ere that deed pass, blood, blood 
shall flow. 

Mor. [Signs it.] 'Tis sign'd. 
See Morton's name. Who doubts his loyalty * 

Queen. [Aside.] J yet suspect his guilt. 

Riz. This is your hand, 

My lord — and — 

Mor. I'll not answer thee, base slanderer. 

Ruth. Must we thenbear his insolence? arrest him. 
Wait not the law's slow sentence. Vengeance ! 

Lords. [Drawing their daggers,'] Vengeance ! 

Queen. Traitors, desist. 

Both. Lord Ruthven ! curb thy rage. 

King. Both well ! 

Roth. My liege ! 

Mor. [Aside to the king.] Let not the king be 
troubled. 
Rizzio shall surely perish, but not here. 

Ruth. [Advancing to strike Rizzio.] Vengeance! 

Roth. [Draws his sword and interposes.] Who 
strikes that man, encounters Bothwell. 



OF DARNLEY. 51 

Queen. Brave Earl ! lead thou the way. Break 
up the council. 
[To the King.'] And wilt thou not return? 

King. The crown ! 

Queen. Farewell. 

Approach, my faithful servant — I will guard thee— 

Fear not — -who aims at Rizzio, wounds his sov'reign. 

[Exeunt. 



END OF ACT THE THIRD. 



53 THE DEATH 

ACT IV. SCENE I. 

Tlie Queen's Apartment. 

Queen and Siward. 

Siw. The king requests a conference with your 
highness. 

Queen. Speed., Siward : say, impatiently I wait 
His welcome presence. [Siward goes."] To this roof 

return ! 
Thus,, unrequested ! has the fatal truth 
Flasli'd on his soul conviction ? grace,, ye saints, 
My lip with soft persuasion that each word 
May breathe of love and bliss, and in his heart 
Re-animate the spark of heavenly flame 
That lights the soul to glory. 

The King enters. 

Henry! welcome, 
Thrice welcome to this roof ! what blissful cause 
Thus greets me with thy presence ? 

King. Ask thy heart. 

Will it not echo mine that oft has sigh'd 
At our long separation ? 

Qneen. Do I hear thee ? 

Can this be mockery ? if it be delusion, 
Yes — I will cherish it. 



OF DARNLEY. 53 

King. I am not blameless : 

Youth, and rash spirits, and th J impatient mind, 
Are evil counsellors — 

Queen. [Interrupts him^\ On all the past 
Let dark Oblivion rest eternally, 
While on Hope's brilliant star we fix our gaze, 
And in the lustre of its light embellish 
Futurity's fair vision. 

King. [Kneels and kisses her hand.'] Thus I clasp 
Pardon and peace. 

Queen. Add — happiness. Oh, Darnley, 

I am a very woman, and was cast 
By nature in that mold, wherein — 'tis said- 
Love forms the female heart. It is thy Mary 
Whose lip now presses on thy offer'd hand, 
A kiss more warm than penitence ere sought, 
Or ever seal'd cold pardon. Yes, my husband, 
Let me gaze on thee. Art thou not the same 
As in that blissful hour when first we met ? 
When the preventive voice of fame had rumour'd 
Thatheav'n decreed our nuptials :thatyoung Darnley, 
Of royal blood, of rare accomplishments, 
In air, in shape, majestic grace and beauty, 
Sole equall'd Scotland's Mary. Thus we met : 
And ere my tongue had pow'r to form the utterance. 
My heart exclaim'd, cc on that brave arm, the woman 
" Shall rest her weakness, from that eye of fire, 
" Draw the keen spirit that shall daunt the rebel, 
(C And light a realm to glory." 

King. I am thin?: — 

The sun, by looking on the world, creates 



54 TIjE DEATH 

Fruits and fair flow'rs, and in their hues admires 
The beauty it imparts. So look on me, 
And gift me with thy graces. 

Queen. Henry ! Henry ! 

Before thee bright the path of glory beams. 
Love kindly sever'd us the more to heighten 
The bliss of reconcilement. 

King. I am blest. 

And yet there are cold-blooded men., who doubt 
If Mary yet love Darnley. Now,, confound them. 
'Tis not to gratify an idle pride, 
No vain distinction moves me : what I covet 
Shall 'stablish by my strength your kingdom's glory. 

Queen. And can you doubt my prompt compliance? 
Speak. 

King. Why does a shadowy sceptre mock my grasp? 
Why are my brows, as in derision, girt 
By the crown's glittering bauble ? 

Queen. How ? 

King. Be mine 

The grace, the dignity, the pow'r that guards 
The matrimonial crown. Honour thyself 
In honouring me, thy choice. 

Queen. [Aside.'] Was it for this ' 

His lip dropt honey ? let me not so deem it. 
Beware — it is a dangerous gift : 'tis pregnant 
With unknown evil. 

King. Grant, at my entreaty, 

Grace and free pardon to the rebel lords. 

Queen. You know not what you ask. Bad men 
betray you. 



OF DARNLEY. 53 

Seek you the matrimonial crown, and with it 
Grace and free pardon to the rebel lords. 
Who from thy brow will rend it ? 

King. I have weigh' d, 

With cautious fore-sight, weigh'd each word I spoke. 
If love be firmly rooted in thy heart, 
If no feign'd passion, now comply. Yet — further — 

Queen. [Interrupting him.'] Is there aught else ? 

King. A trifle— 

Rizzio's exile. 

Queen. Be that request unsaid. He is a stranger ; 
My smile his sole protection. 

King. Ha ! confess it. 

I do enforce the word. Cast out the slave. 
How — hesitate— I hate the man. That minion, 
Like a malignant spirit hovers round you. 
He pays no court to me : 'in secret thwarts me : 
In public slights : and shall I tamely brook it ? 

Queen. You know him not. Rizzio reveres his 
king : 
And, had he e'er unweetingly offended, 
Mercy, not vengeance, best becomes a monarch. 
Yet — if again thou urge it, at thy pleasure 
Rizzio shall quit the realm. 

King. Such as he came, 

A roofless vagrant, stript of all his plunder. 

Queen. That must not be. It never shall be said, 
That Scotland's queen to beggary and contempt 
Cast off her faithful servant. 

King. Shall this minion 

To the wide world triumphantly expose 



56 THE DEATH 

The beauteous Mary's gifts, and Darnley's shame ? 
Your cheek has lost its colour. Why thus tremble ? 
By heav'n you love the man. 

Queeen. What means the king ? 

I cannot but esteem him. I have found him 
Wise, zealous, loyal : and, in time of trouble, 
When others have abandon'd me, his firmness 
Gave to my soul new confidence. 

King. Ha ! own'st thou 

To me thy love ? 

Queen. I am not wont thro' fear or fraud, to veil 
The feelings of my heart. So have I lov'd hirn, 
That I to Darnley and to heav'n avow it. 

King. Will you not understand me ? 

Queen. No — I would not. 

King. I say you love him with unlawful passion. 

Queen. Go, ill-starr'dyouth. 

King. Why this affected calmness ? 

Queen. Ratest thou a queen's, a wife's, a matron's 
honour, 
By thine own base conceptions ? hence. 

King. Adultress. 

Queen. Shame — shame. 

King. He shall not live. 

Queen. I will protect him. 

King. He dies. 

Queen. Wrong thou that lone defenceless stranger, 
And I for ever from my soul cast off 
Thee, Darnley, and thy memory. 

King. Thy minion 

Dies. 



OF DARNLEY. 57 

Bothwell enters. 

Queen. Bothwell, here ! 

Both. [To the queen] Methought I heard the 
queen — 
Command me. 

Queen. Darnley, hence. We meet no more. 

[Queen goes. 
King. The bond is sign'd. Swear thou, ere one 
fleet hour 
Shall pass away : 1 know their secret haunt, 
The private cabinet within her chamber : 
This master key commands the palace — Bothwell, 
Swear thou, ere one fleet hour shall pass away, 
That Ruthven, and Earl Morton, with armed men, 
In secret, on the threshold of her chamber, 
Stand watchful of my step, when loud I stamp, 
To rush before th' adultress, and there strike 
Her insolent minion. 

Both. Ruthven shall not fail. 

King. [Gives the bond to Bothwell] The bond is 
sign'd. — Ere one fleet hour, all arm'd. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene changes to the Queen's Cabinet. Servants and 
Pages setting on the Supper. 

1 Serv. They will surprise us, yet, ere all is ready. 
Dispatch, dispatch. 

2 Serv. 'Tis all in order now. 
Mind how you pass that way : be not too hasty : 



58 THE DEATH 

Be wary of your steps. This scanty room 
Doth not admit of carelessness. I warn you., 
Thou luckless page — if you brush down that lute, 
Or mar its music : will you not observe me ? 

'Tis Rizzio's favourite : if a wire but soap, 
'Twill much displease the queen, I hear their steps : 

Let us begone. 

Queen, Lady Argyle, and Rizzio, enter. 

Queen. . Nay— brood not in dull gloom. 
Come— gentle sister ! Rizzio — -here- — -be seated— 
I would awhile forget all care and sorrow, 
And feast on my own fancies. \_Aside^\ 1 must feign 
The mirth I feel not, or my tears will gush.— 
Sister, give me the lute. 

Riz. Your words are gay— 

Your looks accord not with them — gracious lady ! 
Are you, in deed, in very truth, light-hearted ? 

Queen. Nay — you yourself shall answer your own 
question. 
A memory of my girlish days comes o'er me, 
I know not why : 'twill help you to an answer. 
When I was yet a little child, at Paris, 
One eve, at court, for Henry ever lov'd 
To list my childish prattle, near him stood 
A brave old mariner, of slender frame, 
Keen-ey'd, his cheek by winds and suns embrown'd: 
His ample forehead in its furrows bore 
Signs of deep thought, and brunt of many a tempest. 
But— on his placid brow sat manifest 



OF DARNLEY. 59 

The spirit that bad storms and death defiance. 
Calm resolution. Close I noted him : 
For thoughtless as I seem'd, his tale at once 
Found to my young heart entrance. 

Riz. What the tale ? 

Queen. 5 Tis simple. In a tempest, nigh the rocks. 
His native shore, he, sole of all the crew, 
Dar'd trust his body to the surge that rav'd 
Among the cliffs. Heav'n crown'd his trust with 

life. 
There, as he rested on a rock, he saw 
Beneath him, in the wide and windless depth 
Of the huge sweep of the ocean roll, the ship, 
A wreck, fast sinking ; but ere yet the wave 
Clos'd o'er it, in the momentary pause 
And lulling of the tempest, on his ear 
From that deep bosom of the ocean, rose 
On sudden in one roar of many voices, 
A wild, yea — wanton song : as if the men 
Now certain of their fate, with one consent 
Had vow'd, ere death, to drown all fear of dying 
In Bacchanalian chorus. So they perish 'd. 
Say, are you answered ? 

Riz. Yes- — too well. Despair 

Has forc'd this light mood on you. 

Queen. Take your lute. 

Why do you strike those dismal chords ? 

Riz. The hand 

Betrays the soul. 

Queen. Come, come, a lighter prelude. How you 
mock me ? 



60 THE DEATH 

The wires are all untun'd, or your strange trembling 
Mars all their music. 

Riz. No light air, I pray. 

Queen. A soothing air, then. Oft the lay of woe 
Is medicine to deep anguish, as, 'tis said. 
The honey of the bee will in its wound 
Assuage the venom. Try my favourite air, 
Thy modulation to the song that heard 
The sorrow of my soul, as on the deck 
Where I had wept all night, at dawn I sat, 
And strain'd my longing eyes that bad farewell 
To the gay land that made my young heart joy, 
To France, fast fading from me. 

Riz. 'Tis in vain. 

My soul is out of tune. 

[The king's step is heard ascending the stairs. 
Heard you that sound ? 

Queen. What sound ? 

Riz. Again ! 

Queen. Methinks I hear a footstep. 

Riz. Hark ! hark, how heavily it labours up 
The private stairs. 

Queen. None here can entrance find — 

Yet — I distinctly hear it — how — a key 
Grates, forcing back the wards — 

C. of Ar. I'll bar the door. 







The 


King enters. 






Queen. 
Riz. 


Haste- 


—'tis 


too late- 


It i 


s the 


king. 


King. 










No- 


— Darnley 



OF DARNLEY. 61 

It is but Darnley — Be not discompos'd — 
There was your seat,, your custom'd place. Sit, 
Rizzio — 
Riz. Not in your presence — 
King. In the queen's you sat : 

She is more king than I am. Slave ! be seated. 

[Forces him to sit. 
Queen, [aside.'] He dares not in my presence — 
King, [to the Queen.'] Be not vex'd, 

That here you see an uninvited guest. 
[Aside 1 By this time they are come. 

Riz. I hear the tread 

The heavy jarring tread of armed men. 

King. Heard you their jarring tread ? Come, 
crown your glass, 
To Mary Scotland's sovereign, beauteous Mary ; 
And, when I stamp upon the pavement, thus, 

[he stamps. 
Drink, drink it down. 

Ruthven in armour, and armed followers enter, 

Riz. [to the Queen.] Protect me — save thy servant! 
Queen. Yes, at life's peril ~ Who art thou ? 
Why arm'd ? 
Wherefore that unsheath'd sword ? Who art thou ? 
Ruth. [Lifting up his helmet. ~\ Ruthven — 
Queen. Why here, Earl Ruthven ? 
Ruth. To obey the king — 

Come forth, base minion — Thou, whose ill-gain'd 
wealth 



62 THE DEATH 

Makes poor the plunder'd realm ; whose insolence 
Outswells thy base rapacity : whose faith, 
Hostile to ours, each foreign pow'r prefers 
To Scotland's weal, and Scotland sons — Come 

forth. 
I, Ruthven, for an injur'd realm claim vengeance. 
King. Add too, that base-born peasant, that vile 
minion 
Has Scotland's king dishonour'd — 

Riz. King, 'tis false — 

Queen, [to the King.'] Thou dost degrade thy- 
self, dishonouring me — 
Earl Ruthven ! hence : or dread a traitor's doom. 
I am thy sovereign ■ — 

Ruth. I obey the king 

King, Strike, Ruthven ! 

Queen. On my knees I beg his life— 

King. Adultress ! no — Thy minion dies. 
Riz. Oh shield me. 

Queen, [to the King~\ Oh ! by that life which 
soon will see the light, 
Thy unborn babe that at my heart-strings pulls, 
Save him. [King gives Ruthven a dagger. 

King. Strike, Ruthven ! with this dagger strike 

him— 
Queen. Traitor, desist — 

[The Queen rushes before Rizzio. Ruthven 
and his followers struggle with him. 
Riz. There is no hope — no refuge — 

King, [seizing hold of the Queen. ] Now force 
him from her. 



OF DARNLEY. 63 

Miz. [to Muthven."] Cease, barbarian, cease — • 
Grasp not her arms : on her no violence — 

[Rizzio goes, followed by Ruthven. 
Strike, but not here — pa the Queen.'] Farewell ! 
farewell ! for ever — 
Queen. Hear, for thy soul's sake, mercy! — Ruth- 
ven ! spare him ! 
Ruth. [Behind the scenes ] Die — die — 
Mis. [Behind the scenes.] Saints ! guard her life. 
Queen, [to the King.] Hence, ruthless murderer ! 



END OF ACT THE FOURTH. 



64 THE DEATH 

ACT V. SCENE I. 

Tlie Queen's Apartment. 
Queen and Argyle. 

Queen. Peace to thy spirit ! rest, lamented friend ! 
Ab ! hapless Rizzio ! dearer to my soul, 
Now, while I weep thy loss, than in those hours 
When like a guardian saint, thy keen-ey'd wisdom 
Illum'd my path : far dearer to my soul, 
Than when thy converse chas'd away my woe, 
Or thy persuasive song like breath'd enchantment 
Call'd fancy from her inmost cell, and fill'd 
Her visions with sweet wonder. 

C. of At. Be consol'd. 

Queen. [Seeing Rizzio' s Lute.] That lute ! ha ! 
take it hence ! that was my gift. 
Conceal it from my sight. [Argyle takes it into the 

inner room."] Ne'er may I hear 
Again those chords which once had pow'r to sooth 
The anguish of my spirit ! each vibration, 
Will ring of Rizzio's loss, of Rizzio's murder, 
Of Rizzio's groan of death. 

Argyle enters faltering. 

C.ofAr. Help—help. I faint — 

'Tis fill'd with armed men, and the fresh blood 
Yet streams upon the floor. 'Tis Rizzio's blood. 



OF DARNLEY, 63 

Queen. Fear not. They shall not harm thee in my 
presence. 

C. of Ar. Not fear ! they murder'd Rizzio in thy 
presence. 

Queen. Dost thou reproach me too,, my sister ? 

C. ofAr. Pardon : 

I know not what I spake ; my fear o'erpow'r'd me. 

Queen. Their queen, their prisoner ! none to aid 
their sov'reign ? 
I had a husband once — but Rizzio's murder 
Has from my soul eras'd him. 

Botliwell heard behind the scenes. Guards ! depart. 
Hence — I command you. 

Queen. Both well!— go, my sister, 

Entreat him to my presence. [Argyle goes ] Hapless 

Mary ! 
And must I rest on him ? Ah — Murray ! Murray ! 
My brother, where art thou ? in arms, a rebel 
Against thy queen and sister. 

Both, [behind the scenes.'] Gracious Countess, 
Say, I will quickly come. 

Argyle enters. 

C, of Ar. The Earl but waits 

To see the body of thy servant,. Rizzio, 
Borne decently away, and that no stain 
Of murder shock thy sight. 

Queen, Have they then borne 

The body off? 'T would soothing be, tho' painful, 
To breathe o'er Rizzio's corse a farewell pray'r, 
A requiem to his spirit. 

F 



66 THE DEATH 

C. of Ar. Go not there : 

Oh shun that scene of horror. 

Bothwell enters. 

Queen. Welcome,, Earl ! 

I did entreat your presence. 

Both. I beseech you 

Now yield me secret audience. 

Queen. [Aside to Argyle.~\ How refuse him ? 
A little while here leave us. Go not far : 
Speed at my call. [Argyle goes.~\ 

Both. A melancholy office. 

But one I deem'd not thankless to my sov'reiga 
Awhile detained me. Pardon my delay. 
I wait my sovereign's will. 

Queen. Say, rny entreaty — 

Such reverence now seems insult. You behold 
The sov'reign of your kingdom in her palace, 
A guarded prisoner ! 

Both. Scotland's queen, a prisoner, 

And Bothwell living ! — All who bear with me 
Name or affinity, the meanest hind 
Of Bothwell's clan, to rescue thee, their sov'reign, 
Would gladly die. 

Queen, I still have found you loyal. 

Both. Ere I beheld your heav'nly charms, I vow'd 
Faith and obedience unto Scotland's queen ; 
But at my eye's first glance, I freely own 
That faith, obedience, subject's loyalty 
But ill exprest my ardour. 



OF DARNLEY. 67 

Queen. Armed men 

Now fill my cabinet ; they watch me, hear me : 
I am a prisoner. 

Both. No. At Bothwell's bidding — 

Queen, [interrupts him,'] At Bothwell's bidding — 
Your's ! 

Both. They, all, retird. 

Queen. And— am I free ? 

Both. Command. 

Queen. Here guard the king, 

The victim of base traitors— Darnley ! Darnley ! 
How could'st thou doubt my love ? Deluded youth ! 
Not thirst of blood, not cruelty of nature, 
Keen Jealousy's infuriate demon plung'd 
Thy blade in Rizzio's breast. 

Both. Seek not to see him : 

Dark Morton sways his soul. But now I left him 
Slav'd by his fear, his fitful fury cool'd, 
The more dejected, like his favourite bird, 
That in the ardour of pursuit, too far 
Out-soar J d its wonted flight, then, earthward flutter'd 
With feebler wing dispirited. Forget him. 
While here the majesty of Scotland wept 
Unpilied, unaveng'd, that boy — 

Queen, [interrupting him.'] Earl Bothwell, 
He is thy king. 

Both. Not, since that foul offence, 

Treason to love and Scotland. Royal lady ! 
All must be known : while here you wept a prisoner, 
That rash boy sped his missive letters forth, 
Recalling Murray. 



68 THE DEATH 

Queen. Am I free ? 

Both. The states 

Are by his will dismiss'd. 

Queen. I, Scotland's sovereign ! 

Both. No, thou art not : thou must bow down 
to Darnley, 
And at his footstool kneel., and supplicate 
His grace., and sue remission for thy crimes. 
I have perus'd the deed ; 'tis vow'd, 'tis sign'd 
In Rizzio's blood— * 

Queen. What deed ? 

Both. Stern Ruthven, Morton, 

Have sworn, on Darnley's head to fix and guard 
The matrimonial crown. 

Queen. And wrest from me 

The sceptre ? 

Both. Yes : and — far more dear to thee 

Than crown or sceptre, yea than life itself, 
Thy honor. If thy foe's fell malice prosper, 
Thy name to after ages shall become 
A bye-word and contempt. The mother's guilt 
On the fair front and sinless brow of childhood 
•Shall brand th' adultress' shame — 

Queen. Bothwell, begone : 

Thy presence is offence — - 

Both. Thou must attend — 

The storm now bursts upon thee, and alone 
One who has lov'd thee long, but ne'er till now, 
Till tiiat this hand had strength and power to shield 

thee, - 
Pour'd forth his soul — 



OF DARNLEY. 69 

Queen, [interrupting him.'] Insulting traitor ! 
hence — 
Away — 

Both, What other arm than mine can save you ? 

Queen. A people's — To the nation I appeal. 
Their pow'r the column that supports the throne. 
The sovereign, on her realm who shower'd her 

blessings, 
Shall never in the season of distress 
Be of that realm abandon'd. Hence ! 

Both. Yet, hear me — 

I speak the general wish, the will of all : 
Divorce 'twixt thee and Darnley — 

Queen. Never, never — 

Insulting traitor, hence ! I'll hear no more. 
Ho ! Argyle ! — Traitor, hence -— 

Argyle enters. 

Both, [going."] Darnley shall perish — 

When next we meet — 'tis fated, — 'tis decreed : 
Scotland's proud queen kneels Bothwell's wedded 
slave. [Bothwell goes. 

Queen. 'Tis clear — The traitor has unmask'd his 
guilt — 
Argyle, if e're thy sovereign was rever'd, 
If e're thy sister in thy heart embosom'd, 
Take this, my nuptial ring ; speed, seek the king, 
Heav'n, and the night's dark mantle thy protection ! 
I do mistrust their violence. Entreat him, 
Charge him from me, if yet he value life, 



70 THE DEATH 

To leave that lonely dwelling — Speed ! I charge 

thee — \Argyle goes. 
I would exchange a last forgiveness with him — 
If he must perish, let him in these arms 
Breathe his last sigh : with him his wife shall fall, 
And Heav'n avenge our murder — Ruthless man ! 
My soul is filled with horror — Siwaid, Siward ! 

\He enters. 
I will not here remain — ■ Thy arm, good Siward— 
Guide thou my step — Protect him, gracious heav'n ! 



Scene changes to a desolate spot 3 near the Kirk of 
-Field. 

Hay, Hepburn, with a dark lantern, cloaks, and 

vizors. 

Hay. This is the place.— Here, by the ruin'd wall, 
Where the huge buttress props it up from falling — 
Is it not past the time ? 

Hep. The abbey chimes 

Have plainly mark'd the hour, 'twixt one and two. 

Hay. I have watch' d here since midnight — 
Keen the air : 
Most piercing cold : the sleet-storm drives apace ; 
And, but for this good mantle, I had lain 
A frozen corse on earth — And, might I speak it — 

Hep. [interrupting him.~\ Hist! — hist! 

Hay. I know you'll call me woman-hearted, 
Yet, would that I had lain a frozen corse 
Ere hazarded this deed — 



OF DARNLEY. 71 

Hep. Five hundred crowns 

Twice fairly reckon'd up — one thousand crowns, 
And an Earl's favour- Thou art woman -hearted. 
Methinks I heard a foot-fall. No. 

Hay. 'Tis horrid — 

From its foundation blow the house in air ! 
And must the king so perish ? 

Hep. That I know not. 

The Earl — hist ! hist ! his word will all disclose. 

Hay. It will be heavy on my soul for ever, 
Yet his the sruilt. 



&' 



Bothwell softly enters. 

Both. Hist! Hepburn ! Hay! make answer. 

Hep. We wait your will. 

Both. Where are the vizors ? 

Hep. Here, 

Both. The mantles ? 

Hep. Here ? \ltolcls up the lamp. 

Both. We must alike be cloth'd. 

Hepburn, is all as I commanded, done ? 

Hep. Strict to your bidding. 

Both. And the train drawn out 

Beyond the wall, close to the garden's edge? 

Hep. Up to the garden's edge. Touch but the 
train, 
The house, walls, vaults, foundation stones, all, all, 
Vanish in air. 

Both. J Tis well. Hay, hast thou done 

Alike thy part ? hast thou to feast and song 
Entic'd his few attendants ? 



n THE DEATH 

Hay, Ere this hour 

They stagger in their cups. The king, my lord. 
Lies at your mercy. And — might I — unblam'd, 
Whisper one pitying word. Think on his youth — 
It is a dreadful deed. 

Both. Hay, look on this. [Drawing a dagger. 
Obey, nor speak, save when I give command. 
Hear my last orders. When the abbey clock 
Strikes two — 'tis near the time — we, thus disguis'd, 
Rush to the lonely room, and seize the man, 
There bind him, and so leave him to his fate. 

Now, strictly mark me : by your lives I warn you, 
Utter no word : no sound, no whisper heard. 
But — Hepburn, when the abbey clock strikes two, 
When its last echo dies among the hills, 
I charge you, Hepburn, live fleet minutes pause ; 
That we, fore-warn 'd, may ere the mine is sprung, 
Fly from the spot : then, fire the train — mean-while 
At different parts, we round the garden watch 
That none approach. 'Tis time. Hush, hush, be 

cautious, 
The city's nightly guard now walk their round. 

[Exeunt. 



OF DARNLEY. 73 



Scene changes to the King's-House, in the Kirk of 
Field. 

King staggers in alarmed. 

King. I cannot rest. I will not to my couch. 
Again it glides before me. Hence ! avaunt ! 
Spare me, ye ministers of vengeance,, spare me ! 
Was it not palpable ? I heard his groan. 
On me, on me, the spectre turn'd his gaze : 
'Twas Rizzio : such I saw him, as he writh'd 
And hung upon the queen, and gazd on me, 
When Ruthven's quivering dagger gleam'd before 

him. 
There, there — again it glides before me. Lo ! 
It beckons me to follow. 

Countess of Argyll enters. 

What art thou, 
A spectre, or a being of this earth ? 
Speak to me. 

C. of Ar. Let my liege behold this ring — 
From Scotland's queen I come, and bear her words. 
Speed, if thou \alue life : quit this lone roof — ■ 
Fly to her arms for refuge. 

King. Can the queen 

Forgive the past ? Pour on her brow, ye saints, 
Celestial blessings ! 



74 THE DEATH 

C. of At. Speed, my lord, delay not. 

I must not linger here. [Argyle goes. 

King. Haste. Say I come — 

I come — I will but fling this mantle round me. 
Keen is the night-air. Hark— a heavier step 
Ascends the stairs. 

Three Perso?is enter disguised. 

Who are you ? ho — my train. 
[After struggling j the King is overpowered. 
Help. — treason — murder — do you seek my life ? 
Will you not answer ? Is my wealth your aim ? — 
You know me not, a kingdom's wealth my ransom. 
Bind me not so, so close : I will not struggle, 
I do not struggle. Sirs, have mercy on me ! 
If you are men, if not infernal spirits, 
Let me but hear your voices. 
Say you will murder me : so you but speak it, 
I know you — Rizzio sent you : you are ris'n 
Fiends from the under world before the time, 
To torture here your victims. Gone — -oh hear me ! 
[They leave him hound — door barred on the outside. 
Murderers, or spirits of the dead, return ! 
Leave me not thus in lonely horror ! hear me ! 
So did I turn from Rizzio's piercing cry. — 
'Tis dreadful retribution. Blood claims blopd. 



OF DARNLEY. 75 

Scene changes to another part of the Garden. 

Queen and Siward enter with torches. 

Queen. [Rushing in.'] Siward, speed on. I am 
not wearied ! Haste ! 
I care not for the gust and freezing night-air. 
What was that sound ? 

[The Abbey clock strikes two. 
Siw. The abbey clock struck two. 

Queen. I am not wearied. Hold the lamp before 
me. 
Speed on. Where art thou, Argyle ? why delay ? 
Hark ! hark — a footstep. Is it thine, my sister ? 

[One of the persons, disguised, rushes by her. 
Was I deceiv'd ? one in swift pace rush'd by me. 
Speak, Argyle, speak ! 

Hay rushing in. 

Hay. Away — away — or perish. 

If that thy life is dear, fly, fly this spot. 

Queen. Why fly ? who art thou ? speak. Thy 

queen commands. 
Hay. Oh heav'n's ! the queen ! — away. The king 
now dies. 
Speed, if kind saints yet grant one fav'ring moment. 



76 THE DEATH OF DARNLEY. 

The mine is charg'd, the train is laid. Away — 
A demon counts the moment, Fly — 'tis fir'd. 

[The mine explodes. 
The wreck will crush us. 

Queen. Let me here expire. 

[Falls on the earth, amid the bursting fragments. 



THE END. 



IVAN, 



A TRAGEDY 



FIVE ACTS. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Men. 

Ivan, the deposed Emperor of Russia. 

Count Naritzin, Governor of Schlusselburgli. 

Count Rimuni., Favourite of the Empress. 

Galinovitz, Sub-governor. 

MirovitZj an Officer on guard in the Fort. 

Feodor^ his Brother, ditto. 

Galvez, Servant of Naritzin. 

Altorf, Servant of Rimuni. 

NarshkofF and two sons. Fishermen. 

Ortosk, Sentinel. 

Senators, Conspirators, Soldiers. 

Women. 

Elizabetbj Empress of Russia. 
Petrowna, Wife of Count Naritzin. 

Place, the Fort of Schlusselburgli, an isle in the Neva. 
Tim.c, fourteen hours. 



IVAN 



ACT I. SCENE I. 

The exterior of the Fort, on the margin of the Neva, 
Behind, the Castle and Towers of Schlusselburgh. 

Mirovitz enters. 

Miro. 'Tis now the morning-watch — from tow'r 
to tow'r 
Hark ! round yon fort's wide circuit, loudly rings 
The voice of challeng'd sentinels. The time, 
Th' appointed hour is past. Methinks, I hear 
Advancing steps. — 'Twas but the Neva's flood 
That round this isle, the abode of woe and horror, 
Whirls its swift eddies. 

Feodor enters. 

Feodor — my brother. 
Speak— Feodor ? 

Feo. The same. 

Miro, Why this delay ? 

G 



82 IVAN. 

Feo. 'Tis ever thus — thy fervent spirit outruns 
TV appointed time. 

Miro. Speed ! speed, ye hours of vengeance ! 
Oh that night's thickest clouds were gathered round 

me ! 
Till then where hide my deep disgrace ? 

Feo. > Be patient. 

Miro. Say, was it slight th' offence,, that here, so 
long, 
In these drear haunts, doom'd for my sire's misdeeds, 
I still have serv'd inglorious ? wrong on wrong- — 
Insult on insult ! nay — 'tis known to all, 
That when the ruthless minion, proud Rimuni, 
Had of his honour'd charge depriv'd Naritzin, 
On me by right and ordinance of service, 
Devolved the care of Ivan. Vain my claims. 
Galinovitz, it seems, has won their favour ; 
A stripling, in his boy-hood, o'er my brow 
Rais'd as in mockery. Be swift vengeance mine! 
Deep, deadly as their outrage. 

Feo. Mirovitz, 

'Tis in thy power. The guard who serve the night- 
watch, , 
Now, at my word assembled, wait thy bidding, 
In secret, in the cavern, delv'd beneath 
The western bastion, whose huge bulk drives back 
The wint'ry floods. But not on them alone 
Our hope is fix'd : all whom this isle contains, 
At thy first summons will arise in arms 
To free Naritzin. Such his kindly rule, 
That when the herald's voice aloud proclaim'd 



IVAN. 83 

That here the Empress and Rimuni meet 
This day to seal his doom, the cry of wrath, 
Of vengeance, and revolt, rang round the isle. 
Go forth — and head the tumult. 

Miro. Feodor, 

The rage and uproar of the populace 
Burst like the tide, whose refluent waves, ere long, 
Die off unheard : not such my course of vengeance. 
Its progress like the Neva's ceaseless stream, 
That gathering up its strength from thousand rills 
Sweeps onward, without ebb, and undermines 
The tower whose shadow slumbers on its bosom 
In proud security. My art shall gain 
To serve my deep revenge, all who this night 
Hold watch and ward o'er Ivan. 

Feo. Speed, and prosper. [Exeunt. 

e? 
Scene the Second. A Cavern outside the Ramparts. 

Conspirators. 

Con. He comes not. Hence. 

Con. Stay, comrades ! wherefore dread 

In Mirovitz, delay ? you, who so oft 
Witness'd his valour, first to mount the breach, 
Or singly scale the fortress ? 

Con. Hark, some step 

Approaches. Comrades ! on your guard : be watch- 
ful ! 
Nearer it hastens : on your guard, I say — 
Now boldly challenge. {They draw their swords. 



84 IVAN. 

MraoviTZ and Feodor enter. 

Con. Friend or foe ? advance not. 

Feo. 'Tis Mirovitz. 

Miro. Put up your swords, brave comrades ! 
Say, are all present ? Theodore, I see, 
Norkots, and Ostralof, and brave Nagotzin. 
I greet thee, bold Truwarotz, Sulskoi, too, 
And Voronetz, who never fled from man. 

Feo. Behold them, brave, determin'd ; speak thy 
will. 

Miro. My will ! not so : 'tis loyalty, 'tis honour 
Points out their path. Comrades, the prisoner, Ivan, 
Is Russia's rightful Emperor. 'Tis your king 
Claims vengeance. By his wrongs, his woes, I urge 

you : 
Recall to mind, the day which hail'd him monarch, 
Saw him a helpless prisoner ; call to mir p l, 
How, on from fort to fort, they dragg'd their victim, 
Ere to this spot accurst, this last abode 
Of horror and despair, Rimuni doom'd him 
As one entomb 'd alive, in yon drear cell 
To moulder limb by limb. No beam of day 
Ere glimmers on the cell that hears his groan : 
And, till renown'd Naritzin here held charge, 
'Tis known to all — the fierce barbarians tortur'd 
His tender limbs. The sentinels on watch, 
Tho' us'd to blood and groans of horrid death, 
Have quak'd to hear his night-shriek. 

Con. We will free him. 

Fix thou the hour, 



IVAN. 85 

Miro. First, jield me patient hearing. 

You all revere Naritzin. 

Con. Yes— as children 

Honour a father. 

Miro. You would shed jour blood 

To rescue him from wrong. 

Con. Most willingly. 

Miro. Naritzin cannot brook such deep disgrace. 
Thus wrong'd by her. Her — on whose brow his 

hand 
Once fix'd the crown ! if fam'd Naritzin join us, 
The realm would rise in arms. 

Con. Lead to Naritzin — 

Miro. [stopping him. ~\ Yet stay. 
Say, brave associates, if the lord Naritzin 
Decline our profferd aid, are all resolv'd 
To free their sov'reign ? 

Con. We will rescue Ivan, 

Or bravely perish. On — - 

Miro. Yet — ere we speed, 

Pledge we a soldier's faith, a soldier's honour, 
That in this cave, ere night-fall, once again 
We meet, to fix the hour, and give to each 
Fit charge and separate station. 

Cons. Yes — ere night-fall. 

Here we will meet. To thee we freely pledge 
A soldier's honour. Lead us forth. 

Miro. Brave comrades, 

I lead where glory summons : fearless follow. 

[Exeunt, 



86 IVAN. 



Scene the Third. A rocky shore on the margin of 
the Lake, overlooked by a Bastion of the Fort. 

Narshkoff andhis two Sons enter, and spread a Net 
on the Rocks. 

Son. [to his brother^ Cheer you, my brother : 
here awhile take rest : 
You are o'er-tir'd : here in the sun repose. 

Narsh. Give me the net, and I will spread it out, 
And on the smooth rock dry its dripping meshes : 
So, if perchance some soldier cross our way, 
We shall not breed suspicion, but may seem 
Intent on our day labour. 

[iZe looks round earnestly. 

Son. Tell me, father, 

Why do you seem disturbed ? what care comes o'er 

you? 
Why point to yon dark nook ? 

Narsh. We have o'er-shot it. 

Look, my bsave boys, our tough oars have o'er-shot 
The little creek — 'Tis there, beneath that rock, 
Where yon huge birch bow'd down by weight of 

years 
Hangs o'er the Neva. 

Son. 'Tis a cheerless spot, 

Gloomy as night — 

Narsh. That was th'appointed place ; 

There we must anchor our light skiff, and wait 



IVAN. 8? 

The signal — When,, at night, the torch thrice waves 
On yon tall eastern turret — look — ; 

Son. I note it — 

Narsh. At the third signal, at a moment's warning 
All must be ready : we must hoist the sail 
If fair the breeze : if foul, brave boys, your sinews 
Must not refuse to labour at the oar, 
Till our good vessel o'er Ladoga's lake 
Has safely wafted the entrusted charge — 
It was no trifling bribe — 

Son. Our life's at hazard — 

JVarsh. So is it, every day, when we do tempt 
The wave, and cast our meshes in the flood. 
Look you, so we but reach yon shore in safety 
The rest of life we may carouse at will. 
Take up the net — push off the boat — away — 

Son. My brother is o'er-tir'd ; a little moment, 
A moment rest. And, tell us, I entreat you, 
Whom we must land in safety on yon shore ? 

Narsli. I know not : but, no doubt, some high- 
born prisoner 
Who has escap'd from chains. 

Son. Oh ! were it Ivan, 

This hand should from my arm first drop in the 

wave 
Ere it let loose the oar. That hapless youth ! 
I know not why it is, whene'er I hear 
His story, tho' it sorely grieve my heart, „ 

Yet doth it chain mine ear. 

Narsh. 'Tis ever so 

When miseries unprovok'd command our pity. 



88 IVAN, 

In sooth his woe would melt a heart of stone. 
Ivan is rightful emperor : he was crown'd 
King in his cradle — 

Son. Out—alas the day '. 

It had been better, father, had poor Ivan 
Our brother been,, and born like us to labour. 
Then — he had scap'd those torturers. 

Narsh. Would that Ivan 

Had perish'd with the monk who lur'd him forth, 
Ere to yon hideous cave the ruffians dragged him J 
J Tis now, eight years gone by, and Ivan then 
Scarce ten years old — 'Twas a bleak eve, and loudly 
The Neva roar'd : I never shall forget it. 
Just as I moor'd my boat yon side the flood, 
A band of soldiers haiPd me : loud their voice, 
And fiercely, as in wrath, their swords unsheath'd 
Wav'd o'er their prisoners. 'Twas a piteous sights 
And all was strife and tumult I full fain 
Had fled the spot, when one, with whose stern voice 
I dar'd not parley, bad me to this isle 
Ferry the prisoners, Ivan, and the monk, 
Each bound in chains— 

Son. The boy, their king, in chains ! 

Narsh. Sore manacled. The child sunk down 
oe'rpower'd, 
Mute, motionless, save ever and anon 
A big tear trickled, and a deep sigh burst 
As it would break his heart. Not so the monk : 
I heard his thrilling outcry, as he writh'd 
And struggled with his chains, and with clench'diist 
In frantic rage oft struck his hoary temples. 



IVAN. 89 

And as I reach'd the fort, just as my oar 
Spent its last stroke, the monk., uprising, dash'd 
From either side the guard that closely grasp'd him, 
Then plung'd into the flood with all his weight 
Of fetters. — Never man beheld him more : 
Save, yearly, on that day, that very hour 
He perish'd, some have seen- — 

Son. Seen what ? Say, father — 

JVarsh. His very self, that monk, so manacled, 
Rise from the flood, and point with threat'ning 

hand 
To Ivan's tow'r. But, hush ! the air has ears, 
And the whole isle is vex'd with vigilant spies. 

[Ortoskj a Sentinel,, appears on the bastion. 
Come, let us hence — 

Ort. Speak — 

Son. t 'Tis the sentinel ! 

Ort. I charge you, on your lives, say, wherefore 
here ? 
Why, on this spot ? 

Narsh. We are poor fishermen 

Who in these waters seek by daily labour 
Our hard-earn'd food. We were o'er-tir'd, good 

soldier, 
And came to dry our nets, and rest awhile 
On this smooth beach. 

Ort. Away, nor loiter here. 

If, when I challenge next, you here are found, 
You are for life imprison'd. [Sentinel goes. 

Narsh, Come, my boys ! 

'Tis dangerous tarrying here. 



m IVAN. 

Son. Oh grant, kind heav'n, 

That this stout oar may bear poor Ivan hence, 
And I will prize it as a monarch's sceptre. [Exeunt, 



Scene the Fourth. Naritzin's Castle. 
Naritzin. 

Narit. Wrong'd by Elizabeth ! thy offspring ! 

thine. 
Thou father of thy country ! 
Her, on whose brow this hand the diadem fix'd 
Reft from the hapless Ivan ! Judge of earth ! 
And must Naritzin's conscious lip confess 
'Tis righteous retribution ? Must I own 
In bitterness of self-accusing misery 
Th'eternal truth, i( One deed unhallow'd teems 
With woe engend'ring woe ?" What now awaits 

me ? 
Death, or drear exile, where Siberia's snows 
Shall sepulchre my bones. Oh ! were it mine 
Alone to suffer ! But, thou ill-starr'd Ivan ! 
To leave thee thus expos'd ! And thou, most lov'd 
Petrowna, whose pure spirit did prefer 
To pomp and courts, this residence of horror, 
To share my doom ; ah! 'tis thy secret grief 
That festers in this bosom. Righteous heav'n 
Heap on this head thy fury ! Spare Petrowna ! 
Oh shield the innnocent Ivan ! 



IVAN. 91 

Galvez enters. 

Galvez here ! 
Why thus uncall'd ? [A shout heard. 

Gal. My lord, and honour'd master, 

Hark to the voice that loudly calls on you. 
None, none shall injure you. 

Voices without.] No pow'r on earth 

Shall wrong the good Naritzin. 

Petrowna enters. 

Narit. Ha ! Petrowna ! 

I pray thee, love, retire. 

[to Galvez.~] Say, whence this tumult ? 

Gal. All whom this isle contains, th'indignant 
soldiers 
Are risen to rescue you. 

Pet, 'Tis known to all, 

That here, the woman thy pow'r exalted, 
She who has basely wrong'd thee, and her minion, 
The insolent Rimuni, meet this day 
To seal thy condemnation. 

[Voices without] Comrades! on — - 
Our swords shall guard Naritzin. 

Narit. [to Galvez.'] Go, control 

Their fury. 

Gal. J Tis in vain. Their rage enflam'd, 
If you deny them audience, will burst forth 
In maddening insurrection. 

Pet. Good, my lord, 

Admit them to thy presence. Thou hast ever 



92 IVAN. 

Heard, and redrest their grievance. I beseech thee, 
Vouchsafe them gracious hearing. 

Narit. [to Galvez.] Give them entrance. 

[Galvez goes. 
Yes, I will curb this tumult. Aid me, heav'n ! 
Make firm my mind, that I may yet withstand 
This dread temptation ! 



Mirovitz and Soldiers enter. 

Wherefore here ? Why, soldiers, 
This tumult ? Who has injur'd you ? 

Miro. My lord, 

You they have injur'd, basely wrong'd you. — 

Hear us : 
Your rule has ever been most merciful : 
Your kindness and humanity have sooth'd 
Th'abode of horror : and while yet our hands 
Hold strength to wield a soldier's weapon, none 
Shall force you from this isle. 

Narit. Say, what thy purpose ? 

Miro. To rescue you from violence and wrong. 

Narit. Thou, rescue me! Whence thy authority? 

Miro. High heav'n, who wills not that the guilt- 
less suffer : 
The soul's resistless impulse to abase 
Tyrannic pow'r. 

Narit. Proud words but ill conceal 

Disloyal deeds. Soldiers, obey : depart 
Ere death repress your daring. Hence — 



IVAN. 93 

Sol, Speak, Mirovitz : 

This is a righteous cause. 

Miro. You see these veterans. 

Men like myself, grey-headed, worn with service. 
You know their gallant deeds. 

Narit. Yes, oft have witness'd. 

There's not a breast of those who now surround me 
Undinted by brave wounds. 

Miro. Shall then the chief 

Who marshall'd us to conquest, fall a victim 
To base suspicion ? No : their brave right hands 
Each on his sword, are pledg'd. Speak but the 

word, 
The cannon levell'd to announce the arrival 
Of those weak tyrants, 'neath Ladoga's water 
Shall plunge in all its bravery their galley 
Ere it insult the fort. 

Narit. I'll hear no more. 

I am unarm'd, or I had plung'd my sword, 
Bold rebel ! in thy heart. Hence — 

Pet. Thy disgrace, 

Thy wrongs inflame their souls. 

Miro. At will command us : 

Naritzin's word needs not a sovereign's sanction. 

Narit. If then Naritzin's word has pow'r, obey 
it. 
Soldiers, your zeal betrays you. What your pur- 
pose ? 
To shield Naritzin from the iron grasp 
Of merciless oppression ? How ? By deeds 
Whose guilt and dire enormities outswell 



94 IVAN. 

The vile traducer's mal ice : deeds that cast 
Round spotless loyalty the blood-stain'd garb 
Of treason and rebellion. Here, first plunge 
Your weapons, ere a mutinous arm be rais'd 
To strike th'anointed brow. Revere your sov'reign! 
Each to his home, in peace, and from Naritzin 
Learn to submit. [Soldiers depart; 

Miro. [ingoing.'] My lord, in time of peril 
Here claim redress. 

[Laying his hand on his sword. [Exit, 

Pet. [advancing solemnly.'] And did I rightly 
hear thee ? 
Submit ! And didst thou speak it ? Thine, that word ! 

Narit. None but myself shall vindicate my honour. 

Pet. What thy resolve ? 

Narit. I will confront the accuser, 

And shame the slanderous tongue. 

Pet. Why rush on death ? 

Hear me pour forth my inmost soul, and plead 
For one in hopeless anguish, one by all 
Abandoned : one, on whom no sun by day, 
Nor moon nor star by night, has sent its beam : 
Who for the freshness of the vital air. 
Drinks foul contagion, and for human utterance, 
Hears but the echo rendering back his groan, 
Or pestential damps, that drop by drop 
Burst on his flinty bed. I plead for Ivan. 
Thou did'st permit it, in the cell unseen 
Of human eye, I still'd his frantic shriek, 
The while he knew not whose the voice that sooth'd 
him. 



IVAN. 95 

I taught him to adore the awful pow'r 
Whose chastisement is love : and, year by year 
Matur'd his virtues, and beheld the flow'r 
That cruel hands once crushed, expanding fair 
Beneath my tendance. Who shall tend him now ? 
The ruthless torturers ? 

Narit. You wound my soul. 

Pet. Is mine at peace ? Oh grant my pray'r. Free 
Ivan ; 
And fix him — for thou can'st — thy word has 

pow'r. 
King on his father's throne. 

Narit. I crown'd Elizabeth, 

The offspring of my lord and much-lov'd master, 
The father of his country. I enthron'd her, 
Urge me no more. 

Pet. Be witness, earth and heav'n ! 

Witness thyself ! while on thy sacred word 
Her throne in proud security repos'd, 
Tho' my heart inly glow'd, my lip was silent. 
Forbearance now is base servility, 
dishonouring our nature. Thou did'st crown her: 
What thy reward ? Rimuni's word shall answer. 
Hear, and avenge ! To thee, an injur'd nation 
Lifts up her voice : not this abode of horror 
That calls down light'ning- from indignant heav'n,, 
But, at thy word, a realm would rise in arms, 
And crush the usurper. 

Narit. Oh that heav'n 's wing'd fires 

Had pierc'd my brow, or ere I had dethron'd 
The unoffending child ! 



96 IVAN. 

Pet. Restore him. Free 

From anguish and remorse thy troubled spirit. 

Narit. Hence — lest I do a deed whose mere 
suggestion 
Rives me with horror. [Cannon and shouts heard.] 

Heard you not that sound, 
Those shouts — that roar of cannon ? 'Tis— 

Pet. [interrupting him.] Th' usurper. 

Narit. [shouts and cannon repeated ] Again — 

Pet. That sound announces her arrival 

This side the Neva. 

JVarit. Now awhile, Petrowna, 

Farewell. I must prepare and arm my spirit. 

Pet. [interrupting him.] For insult, for oppres- 
sion, for dire injuries 
That mock the utterance. Hear my farewell word : 
We may not meet again. Thou art the temple 
Where honour dwelt enshrin'd, and shall thy knee 
Bend at Rimuni's beck ? and must Petrowna, 
(Spare, spare me that disgrace !) look tamely on 
And see her lord lift vainly up the hand 
That crown'd and uncrowned kings, to that base 

minion 
A suppliant for pity ? 

Narit. Never — never. 

Bend to Rimuni ? Lift to him this hand ! 
Rather its strength shall o'er yon rampart wave 
War's crimson standard and array the realm 
In Ivan's cause. My pow'r shall yet prevail : 
Thro' me the voice of truth shall reach the throne, 
And silence the oppressor* I this day 



I V A N. 97 

Will lighten Ivan's doom : yon sun, this day 
Shall see Naritzin or Rimuni perish. 
Awhile farewell. 

Pet. Whate'er thy doom, is mine: 

Bonds, exile, death. Go thou where honour calls : 
Th' oppressor shall not triumph. Ivan! reign ! 



END OF ACT THE FIRST. 



98 IVAN. 



ACT II. SCENE I. 

The outward Fort. 

GalinovitZj Mirovitz, Feodor, Soldiers under 
arms to receive the Empress. 

Galin. [to Mirovitz~\ The herald is arrived. Here 
will the Empress 
A few fleet hours remain. Ere day-light dies 
All speed away, and in new pomps and pleasures 
Blot out the memory of these scenes of horror. 
Miro. [aside.'] Oh that the Neva in its roaring 
waters 
Would their proud bark ingulph ! 
i [Sound of trumpets. 

Galin. [looking out.] Behold., they come— 
Gay as in festal pomp. The sun-beams gild 
Their streamers,, now bright-waving in the wind. 
Now, as the light breeze falls., kissing in sport 
The Neva's dimpled wave. 

JMiro. [aside.] Insulting pomp ! 

That flares portentous on these drear abodes, 
Like some strange meteor that with transient glare, 
Appalls mankind. [Flourish of trumpets.] Yon 

trumpets' ceaseless clamour 
Proclaims their entry, [Looking out.] Ha! Rimuni 
leads her : 



IVAN. 99 

Look, how she leans on his proud arm, and smiles 
Delighted with his flattery. 

The Empress, Rimuni, Senators, Guards, Heralds, 
enter in state. 

Sold, [kneeling.] Hail ! long live 

Elizabeth, our gracious sov'reign ! 

Emp. Rise — 

I thank jour love, and will reward your zeal. 

Rim. [presenting Galinovitz'] Galinovitz, now 
warden of yon fortress, 
More faithful than Naritzin, kneels before you. 
Deign to vouchsafe him audience ! 

Galin. [laying at her feet various keys.] Gracious 
Empress ! 
These at your feet I lay. This guards the gate 
That bars the outward fortress : this secures 
All that the inward moat encircles : this 
The citadel : these close the prisoner's cells : 
This, from the eye of man and light of heav'n, 
Hides Ivan. 

Rim. Lives he yet ? 

Galin. Yet Ivan breathes. 

Rim. [aside,'] Would he were dead ! 

Emp, [to Galinovitz.] Sir, till our further will 
Resume thy chaige. 

Miro. [aside to Feodor ] We must avoid suspicion. 
With seeming reverence we will knee! b ;fore her. 
[They kneel to the Empress. 

Emp. Your suit— your names. 



100 IVAN. 

Rim. [advancing, interrupts them."} Ungrateful 
to your ear. 
This, Mirovitz, that, Feodor, his brother, 
Their ancestors of old were fam'd for pow'r 
And loyalty : but their rebellious father 
Serv'd with Mazeppa, when that faithless chief 
Leagu'd with our foes against your godlike sire. 
The weight of his rebellion crush'd himself 
And all his race. 

Miro. We long in arms have serv'd you, 

And shed our youthful blood in tented fields. 
Following your standard. 

Rim. Vaunt not thus your duty. 

Emp. Merit by loyal deeds our further favour. 

Miro. We are your slaves, 

[Shouts heard at Naritzin's approach. 
„ &im, [aside."] The proud Naritzin comes, 

Naritzin enters, followed by Petrowna closely 
veiled. 

Sold, [kneeling to the Empress.] Look down with 
eye of favour on Naritzin. 

Rim. Peace ! nor insult the royal presence. 

Narit. [kneeling respectfully to the Empress.] 

Justice. 

Rim. It shall not be delay 'd. 

Narit. My lord Rimuni, 

Not unto you, Naritzin deigns appeal. 
Justice, my gracious mistress ! 

Emp. Sir, it grieves me 



IVAN. 101 

To see thee thus, here in the face of day 
A man accus'd, before the public eye 
Disgraced. 1 leant on thee, my lord Naritzin, 
As on the prop and column of my empire. 

Naj^it. If ere my zeal, I may not add my actions, 
Your favour won, now in the public presence 
Declare my crime. 

Rim. Before the senate answer : 

There hear thy condemnation. 

Pet. [aside to Naritzin.'] Condemnation ! 
Be firm — farewell. [Petrowna goes. 

Narit. Hear, Empress ! on his death-bed 

Your sire, my much-lov'd master, charg'd Naritzin 
By many a wound, when, side by side, our swords 
Bore conquest on their edge, that long as life 
Yet linger'd in these veins, I should uphold 
The glory of his empire, nor desert * 

His royal offspring. Have I disobey'd 
My sov'reign's charge? Let this distinguish'd proof, 
Your gift, make answer. [A diamond cross.] With 

this high reward, 
When on your brow I fix'd the diadem, 
You deign'd to honour me. Suspicion's breath 
Must not with venemous taint pollute the breast 
Grac'd by a monarch's favour. At your word 
This hand resign'd my sword : a monarch's present. 
Take back your gift, and grant Naritzin's pray'r, 
Vouchsafe me one request, the plain demand 
Of justice. 

Emp. Speak. 

Narit. That you, my gracious mistress, 



102 IVAN. ' 

Would deign your presence when Naritzin pleads 
Before th' assembled senate. 

Rim. Proud Naritzin ! 

Mine is the grateful task to free the sovereign 
From toils and cares of state : and I am charg'd 
To search out your misdeeds. 

Narit. I shall divulge 

Truths bitter to thy soul,, thou man of guilt. 

Emp. Proclaim them— freely speak : thysov'reign 1 
bids thee. 

Narit. The image of my lord, and gracious 
master , 
The father of his country , lives in you. 
I may not here proclaim them. In your presence, 
Before the senate, at their secret council, 
All shall be fully told. 

Efnp. There, we will hear thee. 

On to the council. There, my lord Naritzin, 
If guiltless, at my throne, before my presence 
Stand unappalPd. Thy sov'reign is thy judge. 

[Exeunt omnes. 

Scene changes to Ivan's Prison, faintly illumed with 
one central lamp. Petrowna enters with a lamp, 
and basket of provisions. Ivan asleep. 

Pet. Forgive my long delay '. 
Ivan — oh answer me. He hears me not, 
Or, at the breath, the whisper of my word, 
His voice had giv'n kind welcome — [looking on him.] 
Deep his slumber : 



IVAN. 103 

Yet, at this hour, such sleep is no repose 
That gently recreates nature. 

Gracious heav'n ! 
How will his misery end ? will once again 
Thy beam, oh blessed sun, illume his brow ? 
Will he, in kindly fellowship with man, 
Feel what the god of kindness has infus'd 
In human hearts, responsive to the voice 
Of sympathy : or must this cell for ever 
Close on his unavenged wrongs ? 

Ivan. \aslee<p.~\ Petrowna ! 

Delay not. 

Pet I am with thee — at thy side — 

A deep and heavy slumber weighs him down. 
Hark ! in a vision, in some troublous dream 
His voice did call on me. Again : 'tis hush'd 
In silence and forgetfulness of woe. 
Not so with me. Can voice of mortal utter 
What this day may bring forth ? 'Tis horror, all. 
And dread suspense. Sleep on, and wake no more 1 
Thou, whose harsh doom of unexampled woe, 
Whose very weakness and infirmity 
Have link'd thee to my soul. Oh hapless Ivan 1 
How shall I arm my tongue, how frame my 

words, 
How tell thee, that, this day th' usurper comes 
Haply to question thee, and doom to exile 
My honour'd lord, Naritzin ? How prepare thee 
(If but Naritzin aid the general voice) 
For freedom, sov'reign'ty, or — torturing death ? 



10* IVAN. 

Thou ! whose high will man *s errant thought over- 
rules, 
Guide me aright ! 

Ivan. [asleep.~\ No: they will trace our foot-steps. 
Avoid me. Look, how slow yon monk steals on. 
Fie on thee ! Shame ! A lye on holy lips ! 
Ha ! gone. The swoln wave circles o'er his head : 
They cannot torture him. 

Pet. His frame, methinks, 

High-labours, and his features, e'en in slumber, 
Have lost their winning mildness. Ivan, wake. 

Ivan, [asleep,'] I cannot bear those instruments 
of torture. 
All, I confess it all. The monk seduc'd me. 
Oh mercy, mercy, heav'n ? 

Pet. Ivan ! wake. 

Ivan. \cojifused.~\ Ha! Is it thou, Petrowna: none 
but thou ? 

Pet. There is none else. 

Ivan. I pray you, turn your lamp 

There, steadily. No ray of light there gleams. 
It may be lurking there, 

Pet. 'Twas but a dream : 

I heard thee, in thy sleep ; forget it all. 
Here is thy food, and I may yet remain 
Some little time. 

Ivan. Oh, ever kind, most welcome ! 

The visionary shapes that vex'd my slumber, 
Have in thy presence vanish 'd all : not so 
This horror at my heart : unwonted gloom 



IVAN. ]05 

Here presses like reality. Petrowna, 
May I disclose it to thee ? It would sooth, 
Me thinks, my woe, yet — it will pain thy bosom. 
The sufferings I endure weigh heavy on thee. 
How shall I thank thee ? 

Pet. Give me all thy woe, 

So thank Petrowna. 

Ivan, [alarmed."] Does not that lamp pass wavering 
by thee ? 

Pet. Ivan ! 

Ivan, [motioning with his hancl^] So it past waver- 
ing by me. Oh, Petrowna, 
It was no shadow, no unreal phantom, 
Such as oft haunt my troubled sleep — I saw it 
Distinctly, as now flaming there — last night, 
(The day and night to me, alas, are one, 
One ceaseless misery :) at the stroke of midnight, 
As on my couch I laid me down, that lamp 
Past on before me, wavering, as borne 
By some invisible arm. Behind it stalk'd 
With pond'rous tread, a form of giant stature. 
I could not trace its features. In its hand 
A poniard gleam'd : and, ever and anon, 
A shroud that reek'd with blood-drops, floated 

round it. 
On me, the murderer sprung : yet, yet I hear 
His hideous yell : I feel his iron grasp. 
But — ere the blade descended, while I writh'd 
Beneath th' o'erpow'ring; fiend, thou earnest — 

Pet. [interrupting.] , I ! 

Ivan. Such as I see thee now, with seraph brightness 



106 IVAN, 

Illumining the gloom, and beaming on me 
Rajs of celestial pity. Say, Petrowna, 
Wert thou thyself then near me ? 

Pet. No — my son : 

Heed not these shadowy dreams. 

Ivan. Not so, Petrowna, 

For thrice I laid me down, and thrice the lamp 
Past on, and ever more that form gigantic 
Thro' all that long, long night, before me towVd. 
And, when worn out with misery, at late hour 
I sank in slumber on my flinty couch, 
Strange visions of past sufferings in my dreams 
Confus'dly mingled. 

Pet. Then I woke thee. 

Ivan. Yes, 

Most kindly : and all vanished at thy presence, 
Save this strange gloom, this horror at my heart- 
Give me thy hand. 

Pet. Thy fever'd hand is fire : 

And now the chill fit shakes thee. 

Ivan. Raise me up - 

My limbs sink under me. 
Support me. [Looking earnestly on her.~\ Ha ! 

Petrowna ! on thy eye-lid 
The tear-drop trembles : why, why turn away ? 
Sure more than wonted gloom fills all the cell, 
Or, if I rightly see, unwonted paleness 
Has blanch'd thy cheek. Do not conceal aught 

from me. 
All I can bear, all suffer, save the pang 
That preys on thee in secret. 



IVAN. 107 

Pet. Tis for thee 

Alone I feel,, feel all a mother's woe. 
Oh, Ivan ! calm thy soul : call heav'n to aid thee. 
The tongue of slander has traduc'd Naritzin : 
Rimuni has accus'd him : and Galinovitz 
O'er thee holds charge; my urgent pray'r has mov'd 

him. 
I know his secret soul, it honours thee — 
Ivan, be calm. This day, to these sad haunts, 
The minion — base Rimuni, and — the Empress — 

Ivan, [interrupting her.~\ Th' usurper ! the fell 
fiend, who wears my crown ? 

Pet. Awhile forego these thoughts : no pow'r can 
save thee, 
If such rash words reach other ear than mine. 
This day, the Empress comes to doom — I fear — 
My lord to exile — and — it may be — Ivan — 
We ne'er shall meet again. 

Ivan. Ye lightnings, strike her ! 

Pet. Oh give me patient hearing ! It may please 
The sov'reign in her pride to look on thee — 

Ivan, [interrupting.'] Oh never will her stern eye 
look again 
On Ivan living. 

Pet. Yet — if such her will, 

Be mild, be gentle, then the menacing storm 
May pass away unfelt. 

Ivan. I will obey thee. 

Would that I ne'er a^ain might see that fiend ! 
No — let me but behold her, but in day-light 
Stand up, and front to front, pour in her heart 



108 IVAN. 

The gather'd fire that inwardly consumes me ; 
Then — die. Her gaze of insult shall not rest 
Triumphantly on Ivan. 

Pet. I implore thee, 

I urge thee, Ivan, by Petrowna's love,, 
By years of unremitted tenderness, 
I do entreat thee by these tears that gush 
Like life-drops from my heart — 

Ivan, [interrupting.] _ Say, what thy wish ? 

Pet. That thou in presence of Elizabeth, # 
Suppress thy indignation. 

Ivan. In her presence 

Conceal my just abhorrence ! urge it not : 
I would not disobey thee. 

Pet. Else, at once 

Must perish all Petrowna's high-rais'd hopes. 

Ivan. Oh ! I will kneel before her : sue for pity. 
Say, what thy hopes ? 

Pet. To 'stablish thee once more, 

King on thy father's throne. 

Ivan. Can'st thou deceive me ? 

Pet. Revolt rings round the isle. Where'er I past 
Before me burst the shout that bad Naritzin 
Raise thee to empire. While the weak usurper 
Leant on Naritzin's sacred word, my soul 
Supprest its ardour — but — Naritzin wrong'd, 
Hope, that long slumber'd, like a giant springs 
Fresh from repose, and urges on to action. 
The glorious visipn fires me : ne'er till now 
'Has bold imagination dar'd to shape 
The righteous enterprize, that still deferr'd, 



IVAN. 109 

Transfixt my heart with agony,, and bath'd 

In secret tears my pillow. On Naritzin 

All now depends : and if my voice — my pray'r — 

If ere Petrowna's tears had pow'r to move him,, 

Thy hand shall wield the sceptre. 

Ivan, [with dignity.'] 'Tis my birthright. 

Pet. Rule thou the empire, in thy might extend 
A hallow'd sceptre o'er a willing realm, 
And fix the column of a nation's strength, 
A nation's glory, on the immoveable base 
Of private virtue : be, in blessing, blest : 
So rightly execute the awful trust 
Of heav'n's anointed. 

Ivan. And — oh bliss of bliss ! 

To be the minister of grace and mercy, 
To lighten the sad load of human woe, 
To rescue the oppressed, to search out 
The world-abandon'd orphan, and the mourner 
Who sighs in secret — and, then say, ee Come 

x forth ! 
" View, in your king, a father" — This, Petrowna, 
Is to be God on earth. 

Pet . Oh King of Kings, 

Who in the soul of Ivan hast infus'd 
A portion of thy spirit, guard from wrong 
His sacred life ! 

[ To Ivan.'] Have confidence in Heaven. 
I may not longer here remain unblam'd. 
Farewell ! forget me not : before th' usurper, 
Remember thou thy promise ; in her presence 
Be gentle, be submissive. 



110 IVAN. 

Ivan. 'Tis thy bidding, 

I will bow down before her- 

Pet, Now — farewell — 

Ivan, My mother — 

Pet. My beloved son., farewell ! [Exit. 



END OP ACT THE SECOND. 



IVAN. Ill 



ACT III. SCENE I. 

Hall of Council. 

The Empress on her throne. Rimuni, Senators, 
Guards, fyc. 

Rimuni. 

Rim. Hear me, my royal mistress ! I entreat you : 
Add, I beseech you, lords ! your voice to mine, 
Let not Naritzin dare profane your presence, 
Let not the traitor wound his sovereign's ear 
With insolent speech ! 

Emp. No more; my word is pledg'd : 

A monarch's word is sacred. 'Tis the grace 
Of sovereignty, its attribute, its blessing, 
That Mercy's angel-hand should still incline 
The scales by Justice pois'd — 

Rim. Naritzin never 

Will sue for mercy. — I entreat you, hear us : 
Recall your word — 

Emp. No ; be his speech most harsh, 

'Twill be less poignant far than self-reproach. 
And, sir, his former services still live 
Warm in my memory.—- Be my will obey'd — 
Summon Naritzin — 

[Herald introduces Naritzin. 
You, my lord Rimuni, 



112 IVAN. 

Search out his guilt. — Yet, first, Naritzin, hear me; 

Deem not thy sovereign, one who in the hour 

Of injur'd majesty, no more retains 

The sense and memory of deeds long past 

Of loyalty and love. — Say, ec I have wrong'd you : 

ec Your mercy I implore, forgive th'offence :" 

And thou shalt find that in this injur'd bosom 

Mercy doth temper justice. 

JVarit. Gracious sovereign, 

For those whose conscience inwardly condemns 

them, 
For guilt which dreads its doom, reserve thy mercy : 
Justice alone I claim. — My lord Rimuni, 
Of what am I accus'd ? 

Rim, Thou didst project 

Ivan's escape. Day after day, fresh rumours 
Disturb the court with tales of Ivan's flight, 
And Ivan's friends. For, never yet were wanting, 
How light soe'er the scepter'd hand that rules, 
Men prone to discontent, and prompt to fill 
The realm with kindred slaughter. Such the charge: 
To this make answer — 

JVarit. What reports unvouch'd, 

What slander's breath may circulate round courts, 
I scorn to answer. Yet — [to the Empress.~] I pray 

your patience ! 
May I proceed ? 

Emp. At pleasure — ■ 

JVarit. I must date 

From years long past : and, if my speech, perforce, 
Tracing time's course, and manifold events, 



IVAN. US 

Should lightly touch on trivial services 
Heav'n pleas'd that I should render to the state: 
Pardon the mention — 

Emp. It shall aid thy cause — 

Narit. My ancestry is known unto you all ; 
My fathers, in their day, for pow'r, for valour, 
For loyalty renown'd, — Scarce had I gain'd 
My sixteenth year, when first, at glory's voice, 
Fir'd by the Emperor's fame, I drew my sword. 
There are, amid this senate, who beheld 
What battles then I fought, what sieges serv'd, 
Ere Nystadt seal'd our conquests. 

Emp. Your brave deeds 

Enrich our country's annals. 

Narit. In those wars 

I gain'd., not lightly won, the Emperor's love : 
And his fam'd guards,— tho' then the manly down 
Had scarce my cheek embrown'd — obey'd my 

word. 
The Emperor, whose course was like yon sun 
Illumining the world beneath its sway, 
Died in his glory. I pass o'er untold 
The sovereigns, each in turn, who held the sceptre, 
Till Anne bore rule. Anne nam'd her successor 
Her elder sister's grandson, then an infant, 
The prisoner — Ivan — May it please your highness 
To state what follow'd ; what Naritzin's service ? 
My guilt, if such disloyalty be guilt, 
I freely will disclose — 

Emp. [rising.'] No trivial service — 
My glowing heart shall gratefully proclaim it — 
i 



114 IVAN. 

When Ivan lay an infant in his cradle, 
And the whole realm was tumult, Lord Naritzis 
Felt all a patriot's zeal., a patriot's dread, 
Lest this our glorious empire, by the toil 
Of Peter rais'd, and by his blood cemented, 
Should under foreign faction, and weak sway 
Of those misguided rulers, Ivan's parents, 
Be wreck 1 ' d, and crumbled to a petty state. 
The public voice calPd Peter's offspring forth, 
Call'd me to wield the sceptre : I obey'd : 
And boldly to the throne my claim advanc'd. 
At dead of night when I addressed the guard 
To vindicate my rights, when round me clamor'd 
Tumult and madd'ning fury, -when in vain 
I lifted up, to awe th'infuriate throng, 
That consecrated cross, then, lord Naritzin 
Dwelt on my father's fame, and crown'd my 

brow— ■ 
Why hast thou forc'd on me th'ungrateful office 
To hear thy guilt ? Does then thy heart no more 
Glow at the name of my immortal sire, 
Nor honour in the sovereign of thy choice 
His living image ? 

Narit. Still my soul adores 

The memory of your sire, and thus [kneels"] in you., 
Reveres his hallo w'd image. 

Emp. ■ [wifii warmth.'] On thy faith 
I firmly rest. They falsely have accus'd thee ; 
Break up the senate. — Reassume thy honours : 
Resume thy government -— 

Narit, First, yield me hearing — 



IVAN. 115 

Rim. It may import your throne, my royal mis- 
tress ! 

Emp. Do not detain me. 

Narit. I must pour before you 

The anguish of my soul, and speak of Ivan, 
That hapless prince — 

Rim. Prince !— Rebel ! 

Narit. On thy head 

That word, base traitor ! — Thou, who hast misus'd 
Thy sovereign's favour, else, Naritzin's claims, 
And Ivan's piercing cry had reach'd the throne. 
Oh miserable realm ! whose ruler yields 
Th'entrusted rights and duties of the sceptre 
To smooth-voic'd sycophants ! [addressing Rimuni.] 

Behold our realm, 
That once by Peter's god-like soul exalted 
Towr'd proudly eminent, as stateliest pine, 
That rooted on the ice-cleft rock, out-braves 
The war of winds, and from its brow majestic 
Show'rs into dust impalpable, the weight 
Of winter's snows : now droops beneath the gloom 
Of luxury and sloth !— = -Voluptuousness 
Has mildew'd its fair growth, stern tyranny 
Lopt each brave shoot, and foul corruption chang'd 
Its sap and vital nutriment to poison 
Circling thro' all its viens. — Rimuni, dread 
An injur'd nation's vengeance— 

Rim. [to the Empress. J If my zeal 
Ere won thy favour, let my word confound 
The traitor — 

Emp. No — [aside.'] His just rebuke — I feel it — 



)l& IVAN. 

Plants daggers in my heart. You spake of Ivan; 
Proceed — 

JVarit. At this Rimuni's stern command, 
When savage hands had rack'd the hapless Ivan, 
When his dire wrongs rang loud on every tongue, 
And the deep woe that fill'd each heart, in mine 
Was guilt and condemnation, then, before me, 
Like a tormenting spirit, day and night 
The image of the unoffending victim, 
The heir of empire, by my pow'r dethron'd, 
Lone, in the unsunn'd dungeon, chain'd, in tor- 
tures, 
Before me rose : nor ever ceas'd the sting 
Of conscience here to lodge its gather'd venom, 
Till the sharp goading of remorse compell'd me, 
In expiation of th'offence, to claim 
This dreadful charge, and here to dedicate 
To solitude and sad obscurity, 
The closing of a day whose dawn was glory — 
Yet, wholly not unblest, so Heav'n vouchsaf'd me 
To shield the helpless from the oppressor's wrong, 
And, haply, soothe, if aught on earth might soothe, 
The sufferings of the wrong'd, the outrag'd Ivan. 

Rim. Wrong'd, outrag'd Ivan ! 

Lords. Treason— 

Emp. Peace, be silent— 

I too have human feelings, human pity. 

JVarit, Outrag'd ! I spake the word. Look a! 
this charge, [takes a paper from his bosom. 
I would not, for thy sake, my gracious mistress, 
Before the public eye produce this deed — » 



IVAN. 117 

Once, when I claim'd the charge of Ivan, once 
I by constraint perus'd it — 

Emp. Lord Rimuni : 

Read it — 

Rim, Compel me not, my gracious Empress ! 
Bid me not speak what wisdom would conceal, 
Nor deeds recal that after lapse of years 
By seeming harshness, may too rudely wound 
Thy gentle nature, 

Emp. Thou dost wrong thy sov'reign — 

My lord Naritzin ! this imports thy honour : 
Proclaim aloud the charge, that all may judge, 
Blame or applaud thy conduct. 

Narit. [reads the charge."] <c Guard this Ivan — 
ec Close fetter'd in a dungeon's cell immure him, 
ce Far from the light of day, and every eye, 
" Save thine. Such food as nature craves, be his. 
ec His mind is brutalis'd : by means that tame 
Ci The stubborn brute, subdue his savage mood." 

Emp. It bears thy signature, thy name, Rimuni. 

Narit. Would that no other name that deed sub- 
scrib'd ! 

Emp. My name ! oh heav'n — 
I will'd that Ivan should be close immur'd, 
Not harshly tortur'd. 

Narit. [kneels. - ] Hear me ! 

Emp. Wherefore kneel ? 

Arise. 

JVarit. Vouchsafe me audience. If this hand 
First crown'd your brow, if first I hail'd you, 
Empress, 



118 IVAN. 

Have pity upon Ivan, From this scroll 
Blot out the stain and character of blood. 
Not of that fiend, of thy own heart take counsel-: 
Then, in the splendour of your sire's renown 
His sceptre wield. And oh permit that Ivan — 
The wronged—the outraged — unoffending Ivan, 
May in some cloister's sanctuary pass 
Life's tranquil day : >the peace, the public weal, 
The throne's stability, your sacred life, 
Claim justly such restraint : but all beyond — 
Ruthless oppression. 

Rim. Dar'st thou thus proclaim it 

Before thy sov'reign's presence ? 

Narit. Sir, I speak 

Under the terror of no earthly pow'r : 
[pointing up."] There reigns my judge. 

Emp. My lord Rimuni, silence. 

Narit. If, haply to have sooth'd by tenderest cares 
Him whom my pow'r dethron'd, be deem'd a crime, 
Be on my head that guilt ! the blest offence 
Will whisper peace to my departing soul. 
The cell, 'tis true, has Ivan's dwelling been, 
Nor other eye than mine, save one on earth. 
Has ever glanc'd upon him. 

Rim. Ha! another — 

Mark'd you his word, dread sovereign ? 

'Emp. [to Naritzin.'] Who ? declare it. 

Narit. Petrowna. From her lip, day after day, 
E'en in the tomb that sepulchres the living, 
Ivan has learnt the words of wisdom, iearnt 
How best to temper passion, and imbib'd 



IVAN. 119 

The balm of heav'nly solace which religion 
Mingles in misery's chalice — 

Rim. [interrupting him. Aside to the Empress.'] 
The brute Ivan, 
Of cultured reason ! 'Tis most perilous. 
Not vain the warning. Were this widely rumour' d, 
Were it but whisper'd in the public ear, 
The realm would rise in arms. My gracious 

Sov'reign ! 
Bid hence the senate. I beseech you, hear me. 

Emp. My spirit is sore troubled. 

Rim. I entreat you, 

Let me dismiss them. Loyal tho' they seem, 
They must not share this counsel. 

Emp. Bid them hence. 

Rim. My lords ! awhile retire. 

[ The Senate and Naritzin depart. 

Emp. What now thy counsel ? 

Rim. It was no idle rumour reach'd your throne 
Of Ivan's followers, and projected rescue — 
All is confirm'd. And — but you do not heed me— 

Emp. Be brief. 

Rim. Your throne, your sacred life's at hazard. 
Be judge yourself: before you, face to face, 
Bid forth the boy, and witness what his nature, 
His nature ! Who can doubt it ? Aptly tutor'd : 
All mildness ! All submission ! But beware ! 
Sudden, in full-grown strength, mature for vengeance 
The lion from his secret lair will spring, 
And crush you in his fury—' 

Emp. Yes—I dread him. 



■120 IVAN. 

Rim. Were the boy dead, then would your soul 
know peace ! 
There are — I know the man, whose loyal zeal 
Would rid you of that fear. 

Emp. By murder ? Never — 

Rim. You — or the boy. 

Emp. Oh heap not on my soul 

That added guilt. 

Rim. Think not Rimuni's nature 

Inclines to deeds of blood. The sacred duty 
To guard your life compels me. 

Emp. Spare me- — spare me. 

Rim. I wish not Ivan's death : but say, where 
breathes 
On earth — I do not know that living man- 
On whom my soul in fearless confidence 
Can rest such perilous charge. 

Emp. Yes. One I know 

In whom I firmly trust. 

Rim. Then I conjure you, 

Bind on his soul by heav'n-attested vows, 
This solemn charge, to stab without remorse 
The boy, if fraud or force attempt his rescue. 
Till then, as wont, within th' imprisoning cell 
Closely immure him. 

Emp. 'Tis most wisely counselPd. 

Bid lord Naritzin in yon cloister's cell 
Attend my summons. 

Rim. Lord Naritzin ! 

Emp. Speed. 

Bid him there wait my presence. And, I charge you. 



IVAN. 121 

At hazard of my deep displeasure charge you, 
Let none approach the spot. My will is fix'd : 
Reply not : be thy sov'reign's word obey'd. 

\_Exeunt. 

Scene changes to the Cave of the Conspirators, 
Conspirators. Mirovitz. Feodor. 

Con. [to Mirovitz.] Detain us not. Most dangerous 
this delay. 
Now fix the hour : give each his separate charge. 
But — if you doubt our word — 

Miro. [interrupting him.~\ I doubt you not. 

Con. On— to the altar lead us : 
There pledge our souls to Ivan's cause, there bind us 
To slay whoe'er withstands his sov'reign's rescue. 
Behold us fix'd. 

Miro. Hear then my last resolve. 

You know the tyrannous custom of this fort, 
Month after month, fresh troops the isle surround, 
And night by night, new guards keep watch and ward 
Round Ivan's cell. This night that charge is ours. 
I, when the hour strikes twelve, relieve the watch. 
Now, one by one, pledge your brave hands with 

mine. 
You, [selecting two in turn.~\ guard the outward 

draw-bridge : you, the gates 
Of the first tow'r : the iron draw-bridge, yours : 
Your charge, the inner fort : you, guard the vaults 
That wind thro' ways obscure to Ivan's cell : 



122 IVAN. 

You , bold Truwarotz, and brave Voronetz, 
You, at his cell take station : thine,, my brother, 
The eastern turret : o'er its crested brow — 
Be watchful— If all favour our design, 
At stroke of one, a lighted beacon raise ; 
Wave it distinctly thrice : — at the third signal 
We rush to Ivan's cave, and force our entrance 
If aught our way oppose. A sail now waits 
My summons, o'er Ladoga's lake, to waft us 
To liberty, to wealth, to fame, to honour. [Exeunt, 



EHD OF ACT THE THIRD, 



IVAN. • 123 

ACT IV. SCENE I. 

Tlie Cloisters. 
Empress and Naritzin. 

Emp. My lord Naritzin, on thy faith I rest : 
I shall pour forth, as truth and nature urge, 
My secret soul before thee. Oh ! I would 
That I had never wielded in this hand 
The sceptre reft from Ivan ! Since that hour, 
However outwardly I bear my pomp, 
And arm my brow with confidence, within 
Fear and suspicion that nor day nor night 
Have rest, possess me. I, by violence 
The empire seiz'd : declare what voice has pow'r 
To say in accents that may win assent, 
<c Go, be at peace, repose thou in thy strength, 
cc Nor dread the avenger." 

Narit. Whom have you to fear ? 

Emp. My successor. I gave the dire example. 
Yet more, I dread thy charge, the prisoner Ivan. 
But yesterday I did despise the boy, 
I rank'd him with the very herd that crop 
The grassy clod — Thy voice — the senate heard it — 
Profusely blazon'd forth his praise —The realm 
Once hail'd him king, and I before him bow'd, 
First of his titled slaves. 

Narit. You are his sovereign, 



Ml IVAN. 

And on your word his weal or woe depends. 

Give him to breathe the air that breathes on all, 

And gaze upon the blessed light of heav'n. 

Mistake me not, it is not my request 

That you should rashly free him to the gaze 

And shout of the capricious people. No : 

Let him have commerce with religious men, 

Where he may safely harbour : bind his soul 

By rigid vows all dedicate to heav'n : 

And to the general voice that shouts thy name, 

Ivan will add his blessing. 

Emp. No, I dare not : 

Young as he is, and beautiful, and mild, 
Compassion for his fate would gather strength 
That must o'erturn my throne. I dare not free him: 
Yet I would fain that Ivan breath 'd in peace. 
Thou can'st secure it — 

Narit. How ? 

Emp. 'Tis in thy power 

That he shall breathe the air that breathes on all, 
And gaze upon the blessed light of heav'n ; 
And that his limbs bow not beneath their weighty 
Wanting free space to move in. I dare trust 
But thee alone. E'en in thy crime confest, 
Thy treason, disobedience, I remarked 
A sense of duty that did shame the vaunt 
Of smooth court flatterers — Is it thy desire 
To lighten Ivan's misery ? 

Narit. By my own — 

Emp. Naritzin, reassume the charge of Ivan : 
Assuage his misery : where'er thou art, 



IVAN. 125 

Throughout the day, long as thou hold'st the rule 
Of this dread fort, be at thy side the youth 
E'en as a son most lov'd : yet, still at night-fall 
Closely immure him in th'imprisoning cell. 
This be his lot, so thou yon heav'n attest 
That thy firm hand shall in his bosom plunge 
This weapon, [presenting a dagger.] if or fraud or 

force again 
Attempt his rescue. 

Mar it. I refuse the charge. \ 

Emp. This sacred dagger at Pultowa sav'd 
My sire, thy lord, from death : this now shall save 
His daughter, by thy patriot zeal enthroned. 

Karit. Recall thy pardon, reassume thy honours, 
Forget the vow that never blood should stain 
Thy sceptre, be Naritzin's bold disloyalty 
By death aveng'd — I will not touch that dagger. 

Emp. Reflect, a thousand arms, a thousand dag- 
gers 
Will vindicate thy sovereign : force me not 
On deeds of blood : fain would my soul avoid them. 
Thy sovereign sues, commands thee. Take it, [the 

dagger."] Ivan 
Lives but to bless Naritzin : thy refusal 
Is Ivan's instant death. 

Narit. Not on my head 

Re innocent blood ! 

Emp. [to a guard without,] Bid Lord Rimuni 
hither. 

Narit. A moment's pause. I know his ruthless 
nature. 



m IVAN. 

Emp. Bid Lord Rimuni hither ! Speed — 
Narit. Yet, stay— 

Rimuni or Naritzin now shall perish. 

Pledge but jour word, and I accept the charge. 

Emp. What thy intent ? 

JVarit. Your fame, a nation's weal — 

Swear, ere another sun shall light the world. 
For ever from th' indignant realm to banish 
Rimuni. Are you silent ? Plunge the dagger, 
JVfurd'ress, in Ivan's heart : so to your grave 
Go down with charge of blood upon your brow : 
So, in your sin, at heav'n's dread call, arise 
Before the King of kings. 

Emp. Ere yonder sun 

Resumes his course, Rimuni flies the realm. 
Take thou this weapon, [he takes it.] 

Narit. Ivan shall not reign. 

Emp. Receive thy sovereign's thanks — o'er 
populous Ingria 
Thy government extends. 

Narit. I seek no honours. 

As yet thou art unstain'd [drawing the dagger."] with 

innocent blood. 
Let me depart. 

Emp. Yet hear me — Stay— Thy sovereign 

Ere sun-set quits the isle : but, ere I leave 
These scenes for ever, 
JVIy lord, I must hold conference with Ivan — 

Nar. Not, I implore you, ere you have made 
known 
Your purpose to Petrowna. 



IVAN. 127 

Einp. Why ?' 

Narit. Her voice 

Tempers at will his spirit : her fix'd glance 
Holds magic influence o'er him. 

Emp. Say., her sov'reign 

Commands her to her presence. 

Narit. I beseech you, 

With tenderness,, with pity, question Ivan. 
And,, I implore you, spare Petrowna's ear 
The charge of murder : hide from her the vow 
That past my lip. From Ivan's doom'd assassin, 
Her eye would turn abhorrent. 

Emp, Trust my caution- 

Haste ! bid her hither. [Naritsin goes."]— Ho. ! hei* 

voice, her glance 
Hold magic influence o'er him ! 'tis most palpable ! 
Tutor'd by her ! and who but this Petrowna 
Has Ivan's misery sooth'd ? his weal, his woe, 
Not mine, her spirit sways. My throne, my life, 
Rests on this woman : 'tis most hazardous. 
The boy now ripens into man, with manhood, 
Ambition, vengeance, his acknowledged claim 
To rule, will rouse ungovernable thoughts. 
All must be plainly told ; the husband's vow 
Must yoke the wife ; so shall Petrowna quench 
Each latent spark that glows in Ivan's bosom^ 
And I in peace repose. 

Petrowna enters. 

Pet. My lord Naritzin 

Bade me attend your presence. Deign, accept 



128 IVAN. 

My thanks, how due ! that once more on Naritzin 
His sov'reign's favour rests. 

Emp. On his obedience, 

My favour rests. 

Pet. Yet not th' entrusted charge, 

Nor gifts, nor high rewards, nor added honours, 
Have smooth'd his brow. Methought, unwonted 

gloom 
Darkened his cheek, as swift he hurried on 
To hide in loneliness thoughts ill at ease. 

Emp. I know the cause; and it doth much import 
thee 
To feel its force. His sov'reign to his pray'r 
Bow'd gracious, when thy lord, at once to lighten 
The doom of Ivan, and to drive Rimuni 
For ever from this realm — 

Pet. [interrupting her.~\ Belov'd Naritzin ! 
Heav'n on thy head its choicest treasures show'r ! 

Emp, Vow'd — to prevent by death — the prisoner's 
flight, 
If fraud or force should ere attempt his rescue. 
You mark my words. 

Pet. Too plainly — murder Ivan. 

Emp. His vow is ratifi'd in heav'n. 

Pet. Say — rather — 

Where demons howl in torture. 

Emp. Hear, Petrowna i 

Thy sov'reign speaks. 

Pet. Naritzin murder Ivan ! 

It shall not be. 

Emp. Fain would I see the youth : 



IVAN. ISO 

Hold converse with him : and myself observe 
If rurncur vilely has degraded him 
To the low level of a senseless brute : 
Or, as Naritzin vaunted it, if Ivan 
Be grac'd with high endowments. 

Pet. [aside.'] Oh my soul ! 

'Tis as I fear'd. Her eye shall not glance on him. 
If fear can curb, or pity melt the heart, 
They shall not meet. 

[7b the Empress.'] You once did look on Ivan : 
And — you remember — the wide realm yet dwells 
On that heart-rending scene. The very soldiers 
Wept, they who crown'd you, when their rude hands 

cast 
The infant, sweetly lock'd in cradled slumber, 
Beneath thy throne : they wept who heard the shout 
Of thousands, at whose uproar, Ivan woke, 
Stretch' d out his little hands, and oft-time clapt 
In sign of transport. Then thy cheek was seen 
To bow o'er his, and on his smiling lip 
Thy tears perforce gush'd down, while round thy neck, 
(As thine had been the breast that nurtur'd him,) 
His innocent arms were twin'd. 

JEmp. 'Tis ever present, 

It troubles my night-vision. Why recal it? 

Pet. Poor Ivan was not then a senseless brute. 
Sore misery has marr'd the loveliest being 
That ere kind heav'n gave birth to. Fell barbarians ! 
Fiends that they were to root out Nature's fiow'r, 
And plant, their weeds envenom'd in its place ! 
Do not again look on him. 

K 



ISO IVAN. 

Emp. Why dissuade me ? 

Pet. By the remembrance of that moving scene, 
By dread of horrors that may yet ensue. 
If there be pow'r in words to change the will, 
Thou shalt not look on Ivan. 

Emp. Not look on him ! 

Pet. Where? on what spot of earth would'st thou 
confront him ? 

Emp. I understand thee not: explain thy meaning. 

Pet. Where meet him ? In the cell that drinks his 
groan ? 

Emp. No — rather in the sepulchre of death. 

Pet . Here ? In the light of day ? Beneath heav V» 

• beam 
Canst thou with still unswerving look, sustain 
The light'ning of his eye when fix'd on thine ? 
Do not again behold him. 

Emp. Here conduct him. 

Pet. Oh never, never more thy tear will fall 
As once upon his cheek. 

Emp. Oh! 

Pet. Thou hast reign'd 

Triumphant ; revelry; and joy, and feast, 
Shouts of applause, and all that earth most envies, 
Have made thy throne their dwelling. Think on Ivan. 
Do your tears fall ? turn not away : they fall, 
Accepted offering to offended heav'n : 
And every tear mingled with penitence, 
Will wash and cleanse from off thy secret soul, 
A spot of deep pollution. Nature formed thee 
Kind, gentle, generous. 



IVAN. 131 

Emp. Presumptuous woman ! 

What prompts thee, rashly daring, to address 
Thy sovereign thus ? 

Pet. At midnight, I have wept 

O'er Ivan's flinty couch, and quak'd to hear, 
When all was still, his shriek of agony: 
'Tis this that makes me bold, and bids my voice 
Thus warn you : hold not conference with Ivan. 

Emp. Hear, and obey my word. A secret 
mystery 
Perplexes all. I will enquire and judge. 

Petr. [Aside."] 'Tis vain to move her. — Is then 
thy intent 
That hapless Ivan should before thy senate 
Appear, that those harsh men should probe his 

weakness : 
Or thou alone confront him ? 

Emp. I, alone — 

Pet. 'Tis perilous — 

Emp. Unfold thy meaning — Say too, 

(For thou no doubt hast aptly taught the boy,) 
What are his rare endowments ? 

Pet. Heavn's best gift, 

The heart's warm sympathies that render back 
Kindness for kindness, love for love — Not vainly 
In fruitless lore I wasted the brief hour 
Allotted to console him : yet, I taught him, 
('Twas all I taught, for I did rate his life 
But at a moment's hazard) to o'ercome 
Calamity by patience, to repose 
In confidence on heav'n, and to resign 



132 IVAN. - 

Not unprepar'd, unwarn'd of violent death. 
His soul without a murmur unto God. 
So have I rear'd him. Yet, at times — 

Enip. Why silent ? 

Pet. Are there not wrongs and dreadful suf- 
ferings 
Whose very mention., in each human bosom 
Stirs righteous indignation ? Hence, I dread 
What may ensue, Ivan and thou, alone — 
At sight of her who from his temples reft 
The crown his fathers wore, whose stern command 
Has robb'd his day of light, whose ruthless minis- 
ters 
Have rack'd his tender limbs, will not the fiend 
Rouse him to maddening horror ? Thou hast heard 

it — 
If then instructed thus in Ivan's nature, 
Thy will is fix'd to commune lonely with him, 
I must not be far distant. 

Enrvp. I will see him. [Petrowna goes. 

Lead Ivan hither. Speed — away — reply not. 
How is it with me ? What strange fear appalls ? 
Where'er 1 turn, some victim of oppression 
Starts up, methinks, before me, and aloud 
Cries vengeance. — Ere yon westering sun descends 
I will depart : I would not here be found 
When nature seeks repose. — Hark, hark, a foot- 
step ! 
No, 'twas my fear. Why did I wish to see 
The injur'd Ivan ? What is my intent ? 
That 1 myself should witness what his nature ? 



IVAN. 133 

How judge, when terror fills my inmost soul ? 

I hear them : 'tis a footstep : it draws near — 

Oh spirit of my father ! be thou present, 

Sustain thy drooping child ! 

Pet. [behind the scenes. ] Ivan — 

Emp. I hear her : 

It was Petrowna's voice : how mildly sweet ! 

So a fond mother welcomes in her child. 

Pet. [behind the scenes-] Lean on me — do npt 
linger — Gaze no more 

On yon bright orb. 

Ivan enters, looking back, leaning on Petrowna. 

Ivan. Was that the blessed sun 

That lights the spacious world ? Yon orb of fire ? 
Say, can you stilly gaze on it, Petrowna, 
With unaverted eye ? Mine it o'erpow'rs : 
All, all is darkling round me. Oh support me ! 

Pet. Lean closer on me. 

Ivan, Tho' it pains my sight, 

Let me again behold it ! 

Pet. Turn not, Ivan ! 

The Empress is before you. 

Emp. [aside.~\ Hapless youth ! 

How hast thou suffered ! 

Ivan. Oh that piercing air ! 

You said it would be pleasant to my sense : 
But it comes shivering over me, keenly chill : 
Yet is its breath most sweet. Aid me, Petrowna ! 



134 IVAN. 

My limbs sink under me. I pray thee, hide me 
In the dark dungeon. Let me not behold her. 

Pet. Remember thou thy promise ; kneel, implore 
Her mercy. 

Ivan. 'Tis thy will — Lead, lead me to her. 
Still on my sight the dazzling sun-beams flash. 
Where is the Empress ? 

Emp. \_aside } as Ivan slowly advances.'] 

Fair indeed his form ! 
Most beautiful ! of growth beyond his years ! 
Of port commanding ! — Ivan ! 

Ivan. Whose that voice ? 

'Tis harsh unto mine ear. Speak, speak, Petrowna ! 

Pet. The Empress graciously extends her hand 
In sign of kindness. I entreat you, Ivan, 
Implore her pity — 

Ivan. I will kneel before her — [kneels. 

Not for myself I sue thee, Hear my prayer ! 

Emp. I am not of harsh mood. Witness these 
tears ! 

Pet. [to the Empress.] Must I retire ? 

Emp. Leave me not lone with Ivan — 

Yet his no brutal nature — 

Ivan. Scorn me not. 

Emp. I cannot longer gaze upon his face. 
Lead him away. 

Ivan. No, not till thou hast heard me. 

Emp. What would'st thou ? 

Ivan. And hast thou the heart to ask it ? 

Emp. Take, take him hence. 

Ivan. No ; to thy knees I cling. 



IVAN. 135 

None but thyself can give my bosom peace — 
I do entreat thee., as thou lov'st the heav'ns 
That on thy brow have show'rd felicity, 
Vouchsafe reply ! — Live they, my wretched 
parents ? 

Emp. They live — 

Ivan. And is their life — 

Pet. [interrupting him.] Oh, ask no more ! 

Ivan Like Ivan's ? How ! you answer not ! 
Have mercy ! 
Have mercy ! 'Tis for me alone they suffer ! 
For me they are deprived of air, of light, 
Of liberty. My crown is on thy brow : 
Wear it, and to thy successor, at will, 
Bequeath it. — But, if thou have hope for mercy, 
Release poor Ivan's parents, and leave me 
To heaven and to Petrowna. 

Pet. Oh ! assuage 

The anguish of his spirit ! 

Emp. Hast thou, Ivan, 

No other pray'r ? None for thyself ? Speak freely : 
Nay, dread me not — 

Ivan. What should I dread ? Behold me. 

E?np. [aside.] Oh that the voice of truth had 
reach'd my throne ! 
That I had known his gentle nature ! [toldm.] Ivan, 
It may import thee much, the truth declare, 
Has aught unwarranted by Lord Naritzin 
Ere in thy cell found entrance ? 

Ivan. Dark and deep 

My dwelling, far from human sight and sound : 



136 IVAN. 

And the sepulchral roof that closes o'er me 
The bound that parts the living from the dead. 

Emp. [aside.] It wounds my soul. 

Ivan. The elements alone 

In their illimitable sweep had pow'r 
To interrupt my solitude : and oft 
From unendurable loneliness arous'd, 
1 have giv'n answer to the voice of winds 
That heav'd the roaring waves ; and I have leapt 
In transport from my flinty couch,, to welcome 
The thunder as it burst upon my roof, 
And beckon'd, to the light'ning as it flashed 
And sparkled on these fetters : while in vain 
I proffer'd, where the volley fiercely blaz'd, 
My forehead to its death-stroke. 

Emp. J Tis too horrible ! 

Pet. No; not the roar of winds, the thunder's 
crash, 
The inward whisper of a guilty spirit 
Alone is insupportable — ■ 

Ivan. Yet, hear me ! 

Not for myself I sue thee, 'tis for them 
My bosom bleeds, for them, my wretched parents, 
Imprisoned for my crime : the crime, that Ivan 
Was born to rule : waste not in vain lament, 
Waste not on me unfruitful tears- — I know 
My hapless doom, and am prepar'd to suffer. 
But, pity those who mourn the living Ivan, 
And call the day accurst, which gave to light 
Me, their first-born. Pause you ? your silence kills — 
Scorn not these tears ! — 



IVAN. 137 

Pet, I dread what may ensue. 

You heeded not his pray'r. Rage knits his brow. 

Ivan. Thou call'd a God on earth, hast thou no 
mercy ? 

Pet. His agitated bosom labours high 
With violence unwonted. [To the Empress.'] I ex- 
hort you, 
Avoid his sight. 

Emp. The voice of majesty 

Shall curb his rage. Ivan ! 

Pet. Not thus address him : 

Not with loud voice of stern command! Hear., Ivan i 
Withdraw. [To the Empress.'] His cheek is fire, his 

eye darts flame. 
Ivan, [to the Empress^] Withdraw ! 

Emp. [on Ivan's approach.] He heeds thee not, 
Petrowna, 
Stand thou between us : 'tis thy sov'reign calls 
On thee for aid. 

Pet. Stay, Ivan ! 

Ivan, [fronting the Empress.] Thou, the usurper ! 
Is this the crowned brow ? Let me behold it. 
I will confront its terrors. Who art thou, 
Mortal ! that mock'st omnipotence ? Who, thou, 
That in the hollow of thy right hand grasp'st 
Yon orb of light, and with thy left hast yok'd 
The freedom of the winds ; and criest aloud, 
" Sun ! shine not thou on that devoted head ! 
cc Nor let thy pure breath, unimprison'd air ! 
(c Make cool those fever'd temples !" Let me trace 



138 IVAN. 

The signature and majesty of heav'n 
Stampt on thy front. 

Emp. [sinking on her seat.] Help— I am faint — 
Support me. 

Pet. Ivan — He hears me not— I ne'er have wit- 
nessed 
Such violence of rage — He knows me not— 
"Tis past control — 

Ivan, [his passion gradually rises to frenzy^] 

Turn not away— Behold me. 
What trace I on that brow ? Woe, terror, shame. 
Where now thy pow'r, thy sov'reignty o'er Ivan ? 
Usurper ! from thy temples lift the crown, 
And fix it on my brow, and at my feet 
Seek pardon. Give the sceptre to my wielding. 
Mark its just use — Haste ! ope the prison gates. 
Lo ! how they issue forth, faint, pale, afraid 
To look upon the light ! Lo ! how they creep 
Bow'd down on the strange earth, like beings unus'd 
To gaze on heav'n with man's erected front ! 
[to the Ejnpress.] Art thou my mother ? Oh ! I 

knew thee not. 
Let me kiss off those tears that bathe thy cheek : 
They long have sever'd us. Come ! to my arms ! 
Oh shield me from that torturer ! [PetrownaJ] Shield 
thy chield ! 

Pet. Ivan ! it is Petrowna. 

Ivan, [struggling with her.] Off, barbarian ! 
They ne'er shall part us more. [Embracing the 
Empress.] Come : you shall hear 



IVAN. 139 

Strange tales of Ivan. To my prison stole 
A monk, a wily man : long years of suffering 
Have since toil'd by: and the swol'n wave — I 

saw it — 
Foam'd o'er him. Mark how he allur'd my boy- 
hood — 
He told me I should wander in green fields, 
And wreathe fresh flow'rs and garlands, where gay 

birds 
Sing in their bow'rs, and gurgling streamlets wind 
Thro' sun-shine glades their many-dimpled rills, 
But — 'twas to plunge me deeper, deeper-down, 
In midnight darkness. [To Petrowna.] Hence, thou 

fiend ! away ! 
Why, why pursue me to this sunless cave ? 
Is this too thy doom'd haunt ? 

Em p. [to Petrowna.] Loose not thy hold — 

Ivan, [to the Empress.] Weep not, dear mother ? 
By thy tears I know thee ; 
Haply thou know'st not Ivan : not this flesh 
So strangely mangled. 'Twas not thus, when first 
Thy tear of joy gush'd on the new-born babe. 
But — never shall the torturers vex us more. 
Hush ! hush ! No ear must hear it — 'Twas Petrowna, 
Not that false monk, that spake of freedom, empire — 
Hush ! hush ! 
Em p. Ha ! 

Pet. Heed not ! these are words of frenzy — 

Emp. [to Petrowna.] Forget not the dread oath. 
Ivan, [to the Empress.'] Nay — be at rest. 

Cloud not thy brow. The usurper shall implore 



140 IVAN. 

Forgiveness, and kneel prostrate at our foot-stool. 
Off, off, fell fiend ! [to Petrowna.~] 

Emp. Let him not 'scape thy arms. 

Ivan. I can no more resist. Strike not again. 

Pet. My son ! He falls exhausted : [Ivan falls.] 
prone on earth. 

Ivan. Once : twice : they murder me in prison, 
Help ! 
Strike at th' anointed brow. Beware, fell fiend ! 
The eye of heav'n is on you. 

Pet. Ivan, Ivan ! 

Hear, my beloved son ! it is Petrowna, 
It is thy mother clasps thee in her arms. 
My voice has reached him. 

Ivan, [recovering.'] Is it thou, Petrowna ? 
A fearful vision had disturb'd my sense. 

Emp* Hide him from me for ever. From this isle 
I haste— farewell. Think on Naritzin's oath. 

[ The Empress goes. 

Ivan. My limbs sink under me — support me. 

Pet. Ivan ! 

Lean on me. In these arms once more find peace. 



END OF ACT THE FOURTH « 



IVAN. 141 



ACT V. SCENE I. 

An unfrequented spot nigh the Castle. Dark night. 
Rimuni, Altorf. 

Alt. My lord ! here linger not : your doom is 
fix'd. 
Now. as the secret senate clos'd, I met 
Count Olbert. Speed, I pray, your instant flight, 
And underneath the night's propitious gloom 
Haste from the isle. The royal word has doom'd 

you 
To hopeless exile. 

Rim. Not behold me ! 

Alt. Never — 

The Empress is inexorable. 

Rim. Ha ! 

Alt. An oath, a sacred vow has bound her soul 
To drive you from her presence. Here delay not — ■ 
Ere the strong hand of pow'r arrest your flight, 
Speed, quit the isle. Siberia's wilds await you 
If but another sun behold you here. 
Naritzin is restored to all his honours, 
And with the charge of Ivan, added proofs 
Of royal favour court him. 

Rim. Court Naritzin ! 

Then farewell hope ! I charge thee, faithful friend, 



142 IVAN. 

Let it be widely rumor'd that Rimuni 

Fled suddenly the isle. Farewell! \Altorf goes."] 

Naritzin ! 
Thou first in favour ! — Bind by oath her soul 
To banish me for ever ! Wayward woman ! 
I will not crouch beneath the foot that spurns me. 
What then remains? Insatiate thoughts that prompt 
Stern deeds,, and the unyielding spirit of vengeance 
That lays the oppressor low. 'Tis known to all 
That Mirovitz o'er Ivan holds the night-watch : 
Add too— so will'd the usurper — the whole isle 
Heels, surfeited with wine and revel feasting — 
By heav'n ! it must succeed, if Mirovitz — 
And well I know his nature — aid my purpose. 
At the north rampart I will cross his round — 
Ivan shall reign, and this ingrate usurper 
Kneel slave-like at his footstool. [Exit. 

Scene, the North Ramparts. 
Mirovitz and Feodor enter. 

Feo. The midnight hour is past. Say, Mirovitz, 
Are all prepar'd ? 

Mir. At one, we rescue Ivan. 

Success must crown the attempt. All now concurs, 
The guard, the day's late revels, this dark night. 
Look ! how the dull moon labours in her course : 
Those vapours, streak'd with ruddy gleams, portend 
The gathering of the winds : and yon bleak clouds 
That thicken in the south, will quickly waft us 



IVAN. 143 

To the lone isle ; and say, what eye can note us ? 
E'en those whose restless lids, unseaPd by slumber 
Ope at this hour, are all o'er-charg'd with fumes 
Of wine and riotous feast. 

Fco. But how deceive 

Naritzin's search ? His unremitting' zeal 
Visits throughout the fort, from cell to cell, 
The nightly watch. 

Mir. His unremitting zeal ! 

How fruitless ! AH, e'en to suspicion's eye, 
Shall seem secure. The hour, the occasion urge : 
These now neglected, say, what hope hereafter ? 
All now is fix'd, and years on years may pass 
Ere men so leagu'd here meet. It must succeed — 
At the high altar I have bound their souls 
To free their king. 

Rimuni enters. 

Ha ! at this hour, what spy 
Here basely lurks ? Thy name, thy purpose, speak ! 

Rim. Rimuni — Vengeance — 

Mir. 'Tis confirm'd, I know it — 

That thou art, like myself, a man disgrac'd : 
The sunshine, whose meridian blaze illum'd thee, 
Is suddenly obscur'd — 

Rim. For ever set. 

Yet not the less, e'en in the senate lurk 
Men to my will devote : brave men who scorn 
The weak usurper ; lords of might and pow'r 
To 'stablish on the empire of his sires 
The sovereign of thy choice. 



144 IVAN. 

Mir. My choice ! Who ? 

Rim. Ivan. 

Elizabeth is hateful to thy soul : 
Take my pledg'd hand. Perish Elizabeth ! 
This night you hold o'er Ivan watch : this night 
The isle is all dissolved in revel feasting. 
Who, save Naritzin, can control our course ? 
Command this weapon. I have basely wrong'd thee ; 
Yet — if the galling yoke of dire oppression,, 
The bond of common suffering can unite 
Brave men who brook not wrong., lo one whose hand 
Fears not to execute the boldest deed 
Thy spirit dares conceive. 

Miro. The proof awaits thee. 

Thou at my side attend ; be bold., be faithful : 
If faithless — lo thy doom, [drawing a dagger.'] Go, 

Feodor, 
Speed to the eastern turret : at the stroke 
Of one— be vigilant — the beacon raise : 
Wave it distinctly thrice. At the third signal 
We rush to Ivan's cell, and force our entrance, 
If aught our way oppose. 

Feo. I shall not fail- — 

Farewell. [Feodor goes. 

Miro. Speed, hour of vengeance ! if we fail, 
Better to perish boldly, than contemn'd, 
Live unaveng'd. Success or death awaits us. 

\_Exeunt. 



IVAN. 143 



Scene, Petrowna's Apartment. 
Petrowna. 

Pet. 'Tis horrible ! premeditated murder ! 
Fell fiend, to lodge thy poison in my heart, 
To force on me the secret, that Naritzin 
Has bound his soul, by solemn oath contirm'd it, 
To slay the innocent Ivan ! How prevent it ? 
Thy wrongs, oh Ivan ! fill the realm with horrot* 
And each new day, each hour in rapid flight, 
Engenders new revolts. Oh heav'n ! 1 view 
Him whom I lov'd, rever'd, ador'd, a murderer, 
Spotted with innocent blood. Relentless demon, 
To link Naritzin to thy fell design ! 
Our bond of love was interchange of souls, 
Each in the other center'd : how, how live 
In uncommunicating wretchedness ! 
Hark ! 'tis the towVs loud chime, [the chime heard.] 

'twixt twelve and one. 
'Tis past his wonted hour. Why stays Naritzin ? 
Some unforeseen event — perchance — some tumult ! 
Merciful heav'n ! Ho ! [Calling the Guard. 

Guard. Did I hear thy call ? 

Pet. Say, is thy lord return'd ? 

Guard. No foot this night 

Has past the gate. 

Pet. Let Albert now go forth, 

And bid him speed, I charge you, and observe 
If all is peace and quiet. Bid him speed, 



146 IVAN. 

And bring swift tidings of thy lord's approach. 

[Guard goes. 
Naritzin shuns my presence, and avoids, 
Bleak tho' the storm, and late th/ ungenial hour. 
This sheltering roof. His painful charge, as wont, 
Urg'd him to visit in their cells, ere midnight, 
Th/ entrusted prisoners. Has he look'd on Ivan ? 
And told the victim that Petrowna's husband 
Is doom'd to shed his blood. 

Galvez enters. 

Galvez ! most welcome, 
Where is thy lord ? 

Gal. But now we cross'd the draw-bridge : 

I saw him slowly passing towards the castle. 

Pet. How ! underneath this roof, and still avoid 
me? 
Say, was all peace and quiet on your round ? 
No sight, no sound unwonted ? 

Gal. All, methought, 

Seem'd tranquil— but — [A footstep heard. 

Pet. I hear his footstep. Hence. [Galvez goes. 
How solemn his approach ! 

Naritzin enters, and lays down his sword and 
dagger. 

Narit. Thou here ! oh heav'n ! 

Pet . Late is the hour of thy return, and bleak 
The gales of night sweep round the battlements 
That crest the fort. You are o'er-tir'd, I fear : 



IVAN. 147 

The chill breeze,, and the night storm's ceaseless 

fury, 
Have sorely harass'd thee. 

Narit I reck'd them not : 

5 Tis not the outward storm — 'tis here — 'tis here. 

Pet. Come to thy rest. 

Xar. Thou too, at this late hour ? 

Why art thou absent from thy peaceful chamber ? 
I did not look to find thee waking, love, 
Or I ere now had urg'd my homeward step. 
I pray thee to thy chamber. 

Pet. But — thou seem'st 

By misery opprest. I dread to ask thee — 
Yet — I beseech thee. In thy nightly round — 

JVar. Wherefore this silence ? 

Pet. Say, was all secure ? 

Narit. All seem'd secure. 

Pet. But— was there aught ? Oh tell me ? 

Narit. As I drew near the fort that guards the 
prisoners, 
Methought I heard trie whisper of a voice, 
In utterance like Rimuni's. But — in vain 
I search 'd each spot—'twas idle fancy — 

Pet. Whispers ! 

And — utterance like Rimuni's ! heav'n forefend ! 
Yet — for it closely presses on my soul, 
Tell me, Naritzin, when your search explor'd 
The prisoners dungeons, did you look on Ivan ? 
Fain would I know, after this day of trouble, 
If calm his sleep. 

Narit. I left his cell unsearch'd. 



148 IVAN. 

I could not interrupt poor Ivan's slumber. 
The innocent may sleep. 

Pet. Since last we parted, 

Hast thou of aught held conference with him ? 

Narit. No. 

Pet. [in transport.] Then Ivan knows it not. 

Narit. Not know it ? what ? 

Wlfat words have 'scap'd thy lips ? unfold their 
meaning ? 

Pet. How ! said I aught ? oh heed it not ! the 
tongue 
At times will murmur words devoid of sense. 

Narit. Give me, I pray, strict answer. Did the 
Empress— 

Pet. [confused.'] The Empress ! 

Narit. Why thus troubled ? did the Empress 
Disclose— 

Pet. Oh peace ! spare, spare me yet awhile. 
My spirit is within me bow'd and broken — 
My husband ! we will talk of this hereafter. 
Oh ! let us taste the blessing of repose, 
And to kind angels reconcile our thoughts, 
Ere deeper woe assail us. Do not linger : 
Sleep will not on my eye-lid shed its balm. 
While thou art absent. [Petrowna goes. 

Narit. Never on my lid 

Shall slumber shed the blessing of repose. 
5 Tis as I fear'd, the Empress has betray'd 
The fatal secret. Underneath the veil 
Of tempting words, e'en in Petrowna's smile, 
I noted the sharp pang that rack'd her souL 



IVAN. 149 

I am her bane and horror. Thro' the day 

Her eye will wither mine with frozen look. 

And in her dreams, her night-shriek will denounce 

Vengeance on Ivan's murderer. Of his crown 

I reft the innocent child : I now am doom'd 

With this infernal gift, to pierce his heart — 

So, guilt engenders guilt, till, ripe for vengeance 

On the offender's brow, eternal justice 

Heaps retribution. Judge of heav'n and earth, 

Now ere this blade drops blood, in mercy strike me ! 

Galvez hastily enters. 

Whence this intrusion ? say — 

Gal. My lord, a soldier 

Seeks instant entrance. 

Narit. Hither quickly lead him. 

Galvez and Ortosr enter. 

Say, at this hour why seek me here ? 

Ort. My lord ! 

As on my watch I duly went my round, 
About the noon of day, I chanc'd to spy 
A boat beneath the fort, and on the shore 
An old man, and two youths, in guise, it seem'd, 
Of fishermen, who on the Neva earn 
Their bread by daily toil : as I approach'd 
(Awhile unseen) I heard their busy tongues : 
Words indistinct, save that I plainly noted 
Their conference was of Ivan. 

Narit. Oh beware ! 



150 IVAN. 

Mislead me not ! Of Ivan ! Ivan's woe, 
Ivan's sad tale is rife on every tongue. 

Ort. But there was further meaning in their 
words 
Than idle pity., or I mainly err. 
I warn'd them from that spot, and on I past 
So thought they, to my round : but close I watch'd 

them. 
Their skiff is moor'd, in secret, underneath 
The birch, whose hoar boughs overhang the flood: 
And, my day-duty done, I there observ'd them 
Watching the flight of the clouds, as men prepar'd 
Ere long to hoist the sail. 

Narit. Speed, trusty Galvez ! 

My sword — that dagger ! Take thy weapons with 

thee. 
Soldier '. attend us. 

Petrowna ! 'tis for thee my bosom bleeds. 
Oh be deep slumber on her ! Speed we forth 
To Ivan's cell. [They go. 

Pet. [behind the scenes.] Wherefore this long 
delay ? 

Petrowna enters. 

It tortures note. My lord Naritzin ? Gone. 
What ho ! Who guards the portal ? 

Soldier enters. 

Where is thy lord ? 

Sol But now he past the gate. 



IVAN. 151 

Pet. Alone? 

Sol. No, Galvez with him. Swift they sped: 

With them a soldier of the fort — ■ 

Pet. Lead on : 

To Ivan's cell. In thy good guard I trust. [They go. 

Scene changes to the outside of Ivan's cell. 

A gloomy vault feebly lighted. 

Naritzin, Galvez, Ortosk, enter. 

Narit. Soldier ! on yon commanding bastion take 
Thy stand : that eminence o'erlooks the fortress : 
Note carefelly if aught unwonted strike 
Thy wary eye ; and give me timely warning. 

[Stations him on the outside of the scene. 
I charge you, on your life, keep strictest watch. 
Galvez, there take thy stand : [Stations Galvez on 

the opposite side.~\ and, at my summons 
Speed quickly hither. — Not a sound — no motion — 
Oh that the roar of winds, the crash of thunder 
Peal'd thro' these noiseless vaults ! so might they 

silence 
These audible throbs, this tempest in my heart ! 
There, Ivan ! there thou slumber'st, [approaching 

the cell.~\ in yon dungeon. 
Now, when I visited the prisoners' cells, 
Each, one by one, tho' there my main charge lay, 
I could not break on Ivan's hour of rest. 
Thrice I drew near the cell, with full intent 
To warn him of my vow : My heart recoil'd 



152 IVAN. 

Yet all must be reveal'd, or worse ensues. 

[He listens at the door of the cell. 
Soft ; 'tis his hour of slumber. Why that sound ? 
What do I hear ? His deep groan strikes my ear : 
And now a quick and agitated step 
Rings on the echoing flints. Belov'd Petrowna ! 
All hope of bliss with thee is fled for ever. 
Ivan must know bis doom — Ivan — 

[calling loudly to him. 

Ivan. - Who summons ? 

Narit. [unlocks the cell.'] Ah, hapless youth ! the 
horrors of the day 
Yet haunt thy soul, and from thy eyelids drive 
Sleep's soothing balm. [Aside.] What then my 

charge accurst ? 
Why art thou silent ? Speak — 

Ivan. Thy groans appal me. 

Oh gaze not on me,, so. 

Narit. Look on me, Ivan : 

Thou art not wont to turn thine eye from mine. 

Ivan. Thy glance, methinks, streams lire. Why, 
at this hour, 
Say, what thy purpose ? Yet I dread to hear. 
Why dost thou start ? Why turn thine eye around 
As fearful of surprise ? 

Narit. My heart is fraught 

Beyond its bearing. I have kindly- us'd thee: 
Till now,, beneath my rule, no word unkind 
Has ever reach'd thee, Ivan, 

Ivan. Thou hast been 

A friend, a father to me. 

Narit. How, how utter 



IVAN. 153 

Words that hang curses on the tongue that speaks 

them ? 
Yet, all must be reveal'd, all clearly told. 
Prepare to hear the vow that dooms this hand 
To murder — 

Ivan. Whom ? 

Narit. Thee, Ivan. 

Ivan. Thou, my father ! 

Thy hand to murder Ivan ! 

Narit. I have vow'd 

A terrible oath — 

Ivan. I am prepar'd to die. 

Narit. But I am not prepared to murder thee. 

Ivan. Oh let me fling my arms around thy neck, 
There breathe the love I owe thee — 

Narit. But, forgive me, 

Deep is my guilt. Oh had it pleas'd high heav'n 
Or ere thy birth, in mercy to have swept me 
From off the living land, thou, at this hour, 
King on thy throne had'st sway'd in righteousness 
The sceptre of thy sires, and I had lain 
In peace within the grave. 

Ivan. Come to my arms : 

Once more embrace me. 

Narit. [starting from his embrace.'] What that 
sound ? 

Ivan. I heard none — 

Narit. [half distracted with horror. ] A foot step : 
ha ! away! no earthly pow'r, 
Shall force him hence.— Havel not sworn his death ? 
Hear, fiend of Jtiell ! 



154 IVAN. 

Ivan. Thick-gathering drops of sweat *? 

Fall from his brow — 

Narit. I heard it — hark, again 

A foot-step. It speeds on. Hence, traitors, hence. 
5 Tis hush'd, and all is peace, 

Ivan. J Twas but the sound 

Of the lone sentinel, or gusty night-breeze 
Sweeping along the vaults. 

Narit. I must disclose it, 

While yet my voice has pow'r — Ivan, 'tis sworn : 
The solemn vow is ratified in heaven : 
~1No, to a fiend my plighted soul is bound 
That I will fix this dagger in thy heart 
Ere mortal man shall triumph in thy rescue. 
Yet, had I not so sworn, Rimuni's hand 
Ere now had stabb'd thee, [the tower-clock strikes 
one.] What that sound ? 

Ivan. The tow'r 

Strikes one. [Galvez rushes in. 

Gal. My lord, as tow'rds the east I gaz'd, 
I saw a beacon on the topmost tow'r 
Distinctly wave : then, suddenly it vanished, 
And all was dark. 

Narit. Speed, speed, resume thy station ; 

Observe again what passes. 

\_As Galvez goes, a violent knocking is 
heard at the outside of Ivan's cell. 
Who thus knocks ? 

Pet. [without.'] It is Petrowna ; haste, unclose 
the cell — 
Ivan, unclose the cell. 



IVAN. 155 

Ivan. Conceal that dagger. 

If thou must slay me. 

At her departure, fear not Ivan's struggle : 
My death-groan shall not reach Petrowna's ear. 

Pet. [without.'] Oh do not murder him ! unclose 
the cell. 
They come. On every side swift-gleaming lights 
Flash to and fro — 

Narit, [opens the cell and catches her in his arms.] 
Petrowna — 

Pet. Honor ! horror ! 

Naritzin — Ivan — whither shall I turn ? 
I know thy horrid vow : the demon told it. 
Come to me, Ivan. [Galvez rushes in. 

Gal. Treason — I beheld 

The beacon torch thrice wave. [Ortosk rushes in. 

Ort. Come forth : arm'd men 

Rush tow'rds the prisoner's cells. 

Narit. Ring out th'alarum ; 

Summon the guard. Petrowna to thy chamber. 
Horror and death surround the cell. Away — 

Ivan. If Ivan e'er was dear to thee, depart. 

Pet. I stir not hence. A mother's love defends 
him, 
My breast, his shield. 

[ The alarum rings, the tumult of 
the Conspirators is heard. 

Mir. Force down the iron draw-bridge ! 

Break, break the bars 

Rim. [without. ~\ Rescue to Ivan !— 

Cons, [without.] Rescue ! 



156 IVAN. 

Narit. Not if this sword has pow'r — Galvez^ 

come forth ! 

Soldier! desert me not. On, boldly on. [they hurry out. 

Pet. Naritzin ! hear. Their multitude o'erpow'rs 

him., \_clash of arms. 

They close him round on every side. Help,, heav'n! 

[ The Conspirators, with torches in their hands, 

led on by Rimuni, Mirovitz, and Feodor, 

drive hack Naritzin and his friends. 

Rim. [encountering Naritzin.] Naritzin, 'tis 

Rimuni now defies thee. 
Narit. [defeats, and rwis Rimuni through the 

body.] So perish in thy guilt — 
Rim. Curse on thy arm. [dies. 

Miro. Ivan ! come forth ! 'Tis Mirovitz who 
calls you 
To freedom, vengeance, empire. 

Narit. [draws his dagger, and stands over Ivan, 
in act to strike him.] Never, never 
[To Ivan.] Thou must not live. Back, traitors ! or 

this dagger 
Now strikes him dead. 

Pet. Oh do not shed his blood. 

Ivan, [to Narit.] Dread not in me resistance. 
Miro. [to Feodor.] Wrest the dagger 
To the Conspirators.] Think of your oaths. Rescue 
your sovereign — 
Narit. [going to stab Ivan.] Never : 

While I have being. 

Miro. [wrests the dagger from Naritzin, and is 
in act to slay him.] Die then. 



IVAN. 157 

Pet. [seizing the arm of Mirovitz, kneels to Ivan.] 
Save him,, Ivan — 
Defend Petrowna's husband ! 

Ivan, [to Petrowna'} Be at peace — 
The wretched Ivan can no more sustain 
The anguish of thy soul — Thus., thus, [snatches the 
dagger from Mirovitz, and stabs himself,] 

I end it — 
Naritzin ! none, save Ivan, could absolve thee 
From that fell oath : no other arm could rescue 
Those whom my soul most ioves from ruthless ven- 
geance, 
Petrowna now will bless me: and, Naritzin, 
Thou on thy death -bed may'st remember Ivan. 
Support me, oh I faint. 

Miro. [presenting his sword to Narit.] My hopes 
are blasted, 
I seek not mercy : take my sword, Naritzin ; 
Death, instant death. 

Pet. Ivan, my son ! look on me — 

It is Petrowna's lip that breathes on thine. 

Ivan. My sight grows dim, my hand hath lost 
its hold : 
Support me : closer in thy arms enfold me ! 

[Petrowna clasps him in her arms. 
Pet. Here, lay thy head. 

Ivan. 'Tis sweet to breathe my last 

On the sole spot where peace once dwelt with Ivan. 

[He dies, Petrowna faints on him. 

THE END. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA, 

A TRAGEDY 



IN 



FIVE ACTS. 



^ . fan lnca. Leader of the Peruvian army. 
Zamorin. \ TT . 
I Hot 

~ i [cm lnca, pretending to the Crown of 

Gulaxa, , A »• 

Cuzco, supported by Jrizarro. 

Orcas, Peruvian Chief. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Men. Peruvians. 

Villoma, an lnca. Priest of the Sun. 
ca. Leader of the Pe 
>stage with the Spaniards. 

»{' 

Pen 
Arcal, 1 
Rimac, } Conspirators. 

Spaniards. 

D. F. Pizarro, 

Juan Pizarro, His Brother. 

Pedro de Lerma, a discontented Chief. 

Alvaradosj an old brave Captain, 

Benalcazar, ditto. 

-p. ^- i Ai f Son to Pizar ro's rival. A 

Don Diego de Almaero,-! 

I young honourable Knt. 



b" "° iXUU °5 J 



Woman. 

z frt Co^/a, Daughter of the Sun, Child of 

(_ Villoma, Wife of Zamorin. ' 

SCENE, Fortress of Cuzco, founded on a Rock, 
crowned by the Temple of the Sun. At its base, 
Pizarro's Camp, and part of Cuzco in ruins. 

Time, That of representation. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 



ACT I. SCENE I. 

A Court before the Temple of the Sun. 

An Altar before the gates of the Temple. 

Villoma. 

Vil. God of my fathers ! hear me. 
Thou, thron'd on flame ! Thou, at whose dawn, the 

world 
Thy visible creation, bursts the veil 
Of darkness, and in new-born life and lustre 
Sees all that breathe, look up, and bless thy beams: 
Hear my deep anguish ! Now no more, my voice 
Calls down, as once in happier years, thy ray, 
Pure source of being, thro' the womb of earth 
To stream fertility. No more, thy priest 
Fresh gathering from the spring free tribute, lays 
The prime of the year, of herb, and fruit, and flow'r 
Nature's sweet offering on thy bloodless shrine. 
Far other gifts I bring : receive these spoils, 
That mournful on thy golde%gates I hang, 



164 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

The lance, the helm, and buckler : while I call 

On thee, once God of Peace, to arm thy sons 

With dauntless fortitude. Let brave Zamorin 

Again exultant from Pizarro's host 

Return : and on thy heav'n-born child, sole heir 

Of slain Huascar, here, in triumph fix 

The crown that grac'd his sires on Cuzco's throne? 

Zama enters 3 kneels. 

Zama. My sire ! 

Vil. My Zama— 

Oh may the blessing of a father's voice 
Assuage thy grief ! 

Zama, Yet — lives my husband ? say — . 

Deceive me not : I think I could endure 
From thee to hear his doom : let none less lov'd 
Say to thy child, cc Zamorin rests in death." 

Vil, How shall I answer thee ? 

Zama. Oh speak. 

Vil. , His doom 

Is yet unknown. Day after day, in vain 
I claim the hostage. 

Zama. Ah ! the foot that treads 

Where the base Spaniard haunts, to Cuzco's walls 
Shall never more return. Our word was sacred : 
On the dread day mark'd out for Cuzco's woe, 
This fort impregnable, yon gold-roof 'd temple, 
Gifts, and exhaustless wealth, and countless gems^ 
Offerings from kings thro' ages to their god, 
Had giac'd Pizarro'sjnureph, if Peru, 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 165 

Regardless of the city of her god, 
Fear'd to confront the Spaniard. Such the terms, 
And famine forced compliance, when Pizarro 
Proclaim'd by solemn oath, that fresh supplies' 
Should Cuzco's wants relieve, if brave Zamorin 
Went forth the public hostage, pledg'd for Cuzco: 
Yea, o'er his banner'd cross the Spaniard vow'd, 
That, if Peru, ere that dread day, once more 
Should arm her routed multitudes, Zamorin 
Again should lead the battle. Thus aliur'd 
From Cuzco's walls the voluntary hostage 
Went fearless forth. 

Vil, Yet vibrates on my heart 

His farewell word. 

Zama. But, from that day, no succour 

Has Cuzco's wants reliev'd, no voice has breath'd 
Word of Zamorin. What avails it now, 
That to defend the city of her god, 
And free her far-fam'd chieftain, arm'd Peru 
Her banner'd rainbow rears, and hosts on hosts 
Fill all the plain ? in vain. The perjur'd Spaniard 
Basely detains the hostage : and Zamorin, 
Whose brave resistance rous'd Peru, whose spirit 
Glow'd thro' the mingled mass, whose arm alone 
Could guide in war her multitudes, Zamorin, 
Th' avenger of his countrv, 'mid yon host 
Pines in base chains, or now, an untomb'd corse, 
Feasts their vile dogs of carnage. 

Vil. Calm thy soul. 

Zama. Hear me, my sire, nor fondiy feign a hope 
No longer felt. 



166 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Now grant mv only pray'r : let me go forth. 
And learn Zamorin's fate, 

Vil, And wouldst thou leave 

A father's arms, and Cazco's hallow'd walls, 
To rush amidst the riot, and flush'd camp 
Of yon fell spoilers ? 

%ama. To Zamorin's arms 

I haste, to sooth his soul, or with him perish, 

ViL Urge not a vain request. 

Zama. Must then Zamorin, 

Who went the public hostage, who reliev'd 
The public woe, when famine and despair 
Knelt to the foe for bread, mid ruthless men 
Perish, of all abandon'd, far from Zama, 
On whose responsive look his eye might dwell, 
And while it swims in death's o'ershadowing mist, 
Catch j ere it close for ever, the last solace 
Of one fond tear ? my father ! by that name t 
Oh by the memory of her who bore me, 
Whose image, ne'er forgotten; lives in Zama, 
Whose voice, ne'er heard in vain, speaks in thy heart 
While her lov'd daughter pleads— 

Orcas suddenly enters. 

Vil. Why, Orcas, here ? 

Whence this intrusion ? 

Orcas. Zeal to save thy life, 

And Cuzco's tow'rs, and the sun's hallow'd temple 

From spoil and profanation. Not alone 
By the fell Spaniard, by her native sons, 
Cuzco is doom'd to perish — 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Vil How? 

Ore. By treason. 

Vil. Treason! 

Zama. Oh horror ! 

Ore. Since the perjnr'd Spaniard, 

Regardless of his vow, once more cut off 
The scant supply, despair and swift revolt 
Have spread from breast to breast. This day, eredawn, 
When wearied from my night-watch I return'd, 
Thro' the thick mists that swept the mount, I saw 
A fire-ball from the Spanish camp beneath 
Flash forth, a second from the southern mound 
Crost it in air : that was th' appointed signal. 
A youth by horror struck and deep remorse, 
Confest the crime. And, here, in that dark cavern 
Where the sun ne'er sent down a beam, vile traitors 
Leagu'd with Gulaxa — 

Vil. [interrupting Jiim.~\ Ha ! that base usurper ! 
Whom fell Pizarro treacherously has lur'd 
With Cuzco's prom is' d crown ? 

Ore. The same. — All know 

His rank, how glorious once, an honoured Inca, 
Sprung of the sun's pure race, of royal blood : 
But— from that day when captur'd by Pizarro, 
The conqueror spar'd his life, the base Peruvian 
Thro' fear, or fraud (what recks the worthless 

motive) 
Worships the fell invader : so fame rumours : 
And, in these walls, amid faint-hearted men 
Dispirited by woe, his vaunted pow'r 
And favour with Pizarro, each new day 



168 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Gain him new followers . With that man, the traitors 
Who, in their turn, this day the fortress guard, 
Hold secret conference. 

Vil. What their fell intent ? 

Ore. To fix the hour, when to these hallow'd walls 
Pizarro shall advance, and on this temple 
Upraise his blood-stain'd banner. 

Vil. First, his steel 

Shall pierce my bosom. 

Zama. First, the hallow'd stream 

That warms this heart, a Coya's blood shall How, 
And on his brow the daughter of the sun 
Draw down vindictive lire. 

Vil. Speed, Orcas, haste : 

Summon the chosen chiefs that guard the temple : 
And let the signal wave, and, — so deceiv'd- — 
The traitors join Gulaxa. I will meet him. 
Tho' long adversity has bow'd the sons 
Of Cuzco, tho' consuming famine slack/ d 
Their pithless joints, yet in these walls are men 
Who in their heav J n-born monarch's righteous cause 
Will gladly perish. Haste — 

Ore. Be such my death. [Exit. 

[Loud shouts and cries heard. 

Zama. Whence that loud shout, those cries ? 

Vil. 'Tis now the time : 

The guard at my command here lead the Spaniard. 
Ne'er, till this day, have Cuzco's sons beheld 
A Spanish chief in chains. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 169 



Arcal rushes in. Shouts continued. 

Arc. Priest of the sun ! 

Speed forth, allay the tumult, aid the guard 
O'erpow'r'd by numbers- 
Owe of the Guard rushing in. 

Guard. Holy father ! haste, 

Or Cuzeo streams with blood. 

Vil. Zama, retire. 

Zama. Retire! thy life in danger? come, my 
father. [Exeunt. 



Scene changes to the Public Square. 

Peruvians contending with the Guard conducting 
Almagro in chains. 

Guard. Drive, drive them back. 

1 Per. Think of Peru's slain race. 

2 P&\ [to Almagro.'] Give me my son. 
[Almagro in silence shows signs of pity and horror. 

3 Per. Where is my father's corse ? 
Scorn you to answer ? you did rack his age 

To sport your children, and your hounds lapp'd up 
The life-blood as it spouted from his wounds — 
1 Per. Your goblets foam'd, and the feast shook 
with laughter 
In mockery of our wounds ; and when your captives 



170 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Exhausted sunk, ye rous'd them to new life 
By pangs unknown before. 

Peruvians. Force back the guard. 

Perish, fell monster ! 

[Peruvians forcing Almagro from the over- 
powered Guard.'] 
Guard. Hescue him. 

Villoma, Zama, Arcal, enter. 

Vil. Peruvians. 

Per. Strike,, ere Villoma save him. 

Per. Die. 

Vil. My children I 

Have you no pity ? have you chang'd your nature ? 
Oh spare him. 

Zama. Hear, Peruvians, know ye not 
His voice who bids you spare. It is Villoma's. 
Ye are his children, all — - 

Per. Perish, fell monster — 

Zama. [rushing amid them in act to murder 
Almagro.'] Oh sun, withdraw thy light ! 
murder in Cuzco 
An unarm'd captive ! — not on him — on me — 
Here, on a Coya, daughter of your god. 
Satiate your vengeance. 
[ Tliey all fling down their weapons at Zama' 's feet. 

Aim. Lady ! not for me 

Hazard your life. Oh Spain ! are these barbarians? 

Peruvians, [fmeeling to Villoma.'] Forgive thy 
children ! yet, oh holy father, 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 171 

Look down with eye of pity on our sufferings. 
Resistance now is vain. Priest of the sun, 
Resign the fort. Behold us bow'd to earth 
With want, and woe, and famine. 

Vil. How resign it ? 

A solemn adjuration binds my soul 
Ne'er to admit the Spaniard, till Zamorin 
Here yields the fort, or, to confirm his will, 
Sends back the hallow'd bracelet. 

Zama. Ne'er again 

Shall Cuzco hail that consecrated chain. 
Zamorin is no more. 

Aim. Nay, weep not, lady ! 

Zamorin yet is living. 

Zama. Living ! Spaniard ! 

Vil. My sons, depart in peace, [they go.] Stranger ! 
approach — 
Learn from your foe to pity and protect 
Him whom your pow'r can crush. 

Aim. Are these, barbarians ? 

They told me that Peruvians were at best, 
Men but in shape ; in soul, of brutal nature. 
We Spaniards know you not, 

Vil. And who art thou 

From whose astonish 'd soul the voice of praise 
Sounds like reproof? say, why hast thou assaiPd 
Basely this fortress, while thy perjur'd chief 
Detains our hostage ? 

Aim. Bid Pizarro answer : 

This recks not me : I broke no sacred truce. 



172 ZAMGRIN AND ZAMA. 

Vil. Your vows ye break at will : our word was 
sacred. 

What but leagued treason urged you to assail 
This rock in frantic insolence ? 

Aim. My lance 

Was met by valiant men. 

Vil. Presumptuous youth ! 

Declare the truths nor let deceitful words 
Draw righteous vengeance down. 

Aim. Cease thy vain threats : 

I speak not at command. 

Vil. Proud man ! 

Zama. My father, 

He looks like one whom gentleness may gain 
More than harsh force compel . I pray thee, stranger ! 
Aught know'st thou of Zamoiin ? 

Aim. He yet lives — 

So rumour speaks — but — -by Pizarro, held, — 
As I am — bound. 

Zama. A hostage ! and in bonds ! 

Inhuman men. 

Aim. All are not such,, fair lady ! 

Vil. Who art thou, and what urg'd thy rash 
assault ? 

Aim. A passion,, haply, to Peru unknown : 
Glory. Had conquest crown'd me ; Spain had rank'd 
Mine., with proud names, whose mention fires the soul, 
Columbus, Cortez, and far-fam'd Pizarro. 
Fair dames of proud Castille, at solemn jousts 
Had wing'd their knights to victory, with the praise 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 173 

Of young Almagro : and,, if here I perish 
I have not sham'd ray sire. 

77/. Almagro's son. 

Whose army fronts our warriors, while Pizarro 
Encamps beneath these walls ? 

Jim. Brief let me be. 

Scarce had I landed on this coast,, (few days 
Now past) with men., and steeds,, and warlike stores, 
Trebling Pizarro's battle,, when my sire, 
Yet weak with uncur'd wounds, to me resign'd 
His host, and high command. Thus, arm'd with 

pow'r 
And due authority, I sought Pizarro, 
With fair proposal, instantly to join 
Our squadrons, and disperse your numbers- 
la/, [interrupting him ] How ! 
Rash insolence of youth ! captive, beware ! 
Look on those bonds. 

Aim. Your multitudes dispers'd, 

Then, if that haughty chieftain yet disown'd 
The signet that I bore, the Emperor's grant 
Of Cuzco to my sire, to force compliance. 

I came, Pizarro heard, and taunting, bade me 
Fix on your rocks my flag ; there crown Almagro : 
And with bold impress charge my maiden shield, 
Yet bloodless, and but prickt with tilting points. 
He spake, and smil'd in scorn : my blood boil'd in me: 
And forth I sallied where your host beheld me, 
Ere yet my followers join'd, pois'd on my lance 
Vault o'er the moat, and with adventurous grasp 
From rock to rock climb up the craggy fort, 



174 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

And chase your warriors, till one daring chief 
Seiz'd me unawares, and reckless of his life, 
In the deep flood plung'd with me. More I know not. 
You best can tell how rescu'd from the flood 
You drew me forth, and when in swoon I lay, 
What warriors stript an unresisting; captive, 
And thus enslav'd : you best can tell the death 
That now awaits me. 

Vil. Fear not — 

Aim. Fear ! we Spaniards 

Shrink not from death. 

Zama, Thy life redeems the hostage, 

Almagro for Zamorin, chief for chief. 

Aim. No — rather than consent to my release, 
Pizarro, in thy sight, beneath these walls 
Would stab the hostage. 'Tis not life I seek : 
A Spanish chief in Cuzco manacled, 
Almagro's son slav'd by Peruvian bonds, 
Seeks but the consolation of the grave 
To hide in death his shame. Yet — I will sue thee : 
And bend the suppliant knee : a father's woe 
Weighs on my heart. You are a man of mercy ; 
Send back my corse — my lance — a father's gift, 
To old Almagro. It will soothe the warrior 
To hang it o'er my tomb. And let your herald 
Say, how I fought, how died — 

Zama. [flinging herself at Villoma' 's feet.] Oh let 
me sue 
For mercy. Such as he, in prime of life, 
Zamorin : and each tear that falls for him, 
Pleads for this captive youth. And haply too 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 175 

While on his doom we pause, and calmly weigh 
What caution dictates, in his native land 
One, sad as Zama, at the thought of war 
Presses a bleeding heart, and mourns as dead, 
Him yet alive. 

Vil. Zama, pronounce his doom. 

Zama. Freedom. Zamorin's wife from bondage 
frees thee. [Unclasping his chains. 

Aim. Touch not these chains : I am a man 
disgrac'd. 

Zama. What mean your words ? Spaniard, the 
sons of Cuzco 
Deem guilt, and not misfortune a disgrace. 
Youth, thou art free : in victory's ruthless hour, 
Remember Zama. To Pizarro go, 
Say how Peruvian conquerors treat their captives, 
So bid him treat his hostage. 

Aim. I will force him 

To free the hostage, or no more Almagro 
Will woo renown in arms, nor wield a lance 
Where love and glory point the warrior's course. 
Expect thy lord : my life for his is pledg'd. 
Cuzco, ere night, shall view within her walls 
Zamorin, or Almagro. \Exeunt. 



END OF ACT THE FIRST. 



176 ZAMOHIN AND ZAMA. 



ACT II, SCENE I. 
Pizarro's Camp beneath Cuzco. 

PlZARRO. 

Piz. Perish the Indian who resists Pizarro S 
Perish, Zamorin ! not to rouse defiance 
I lur'd that chieftain hither. Had my threats 
Or proffer'd realms avail'd, not Cuzco's tow'rs 

And fruitful empire, but the western world 
Had own'd me sovereign'. In that Inca's soul, 
Tho' mild and merciful, a firmness reigns 

That knows not fear : but sooner at my bidding 

Would Andes' rock on its eternal base 
Than his calm spirit yield — 

■Juan enters. 

My brother ! Juan — 
Hast thou succeeded ? but — another day ! — 
And on that captur'd f©rt our chiefs shall grasp 
Wealth boundless as their wish. 

Juan. Some I have gain'd, 

Leaders of note : others, Almagro's gold 
Heapt from far Chili, and rich realms between, 
Has brib'dto quit thy standard: Chaves, Fernandez, 
Haro, and dauntless Lerma. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 177 

Piz. Dark-brow'd Lerma ! 

Almagro's golden ingots outweigh mine. 

Juan. No. His stern spirit broods o'er fancied 
wrongs. 
He has not smil'd since Cassamarca's fight. 
I met him mid his squadron, near him stood 
A herald from Almagro : at my offers 
Th' indignant chieftain smil'd, and loud exclaim'd 
That all might hear, ' e Base souls by gold are brib'd, 
" Brave men by glory : from wrong'd Lerma's lip, 
ie Ere I depart, this day, your chief shall learn 
ee What gifts must gain a warrior." 

Piz. Haughty spirit I 

Juan. Your force is much diminish'd. Sixty 
horsemen : 
Of pikes and cross-bows full an hundred gone. 
Had not the flood, in which we saw him plung'd, 
O'er young Almagro clos'd, and yonder signal 
That sweeps the rocks confirm'd Gulaxa's word, 
Despair had bow'd my\apirit, 

Piz. On that Inca 

My trust is fixt: and, if his art prevail, 
This day, ere night-fall, yon rock-structur'd fort 
By strength of mortal arm impregnable, 
Shall at my summon's yie|^ : and Cuzco's tow'rs, 
Proud palaces, and mansions of delight, 
Rich fanes, and gold-roof'd temples, pav'd with 

gems, 
Wait ray disposal. Then — the rebel chiefs 
Who swell Almagro's numbers, at my feet 
Shall prostrate fall, and shout Pizarro's name. 



178 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

While from yon battlements I view beneath me, 
Day after day, Almagro's vaunted host 
Perish without a blow. 

Herald enters. 

Her. [to Pizarro.] My lord ! the chiefs 
Who faithful to your banner yet remain, 
Now claim your presence. 

Piz. Claim it ! [after deliberation.']— Bring 

Zamorin, 
Th' unyielding Inca, where my chiefs in council 
Shall mark his dreadful doom. [Herald goes.] This 

will, methinks, 
Sooth them awhile, ere conquest on yon walls 
Waves my proud banner. Juan — thou attend. 

[Epceunt. 



Scene changes to the Tent of tied Chiefs in Council. 
Alvarados, Benalcazar, Spanish Chiefs. 

Alv. Comrades ! be firm. Brave Benalcazar, 
hear me. # 

I grant our loss is heavy, Chaves, Fernandez, 
Haro, and valiant Lerma : chiefs of proof : 
Men of wise voice in council, and whose arm 
Chained victory to their standard.' They are gone; 
Ana we have cause for grief, none for despair, 
If we who yet are left, view not each other 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 179 

With that cold eye of timorous distrust, 
That ill befits a soldier. 

[Towards the conclusion of this speech, 
Pizarro enters, and takes his seat as Chief 
of the Council. After long silence, Pizarro 
rises.~\ 

Piz. Why thus silent ? 

Let none despair. Time was, fame-honour'd chiefs ! 
When by pale fear, and woe, and want encircled, 
On a lone island near this coast I drew 
Thus, with my sword, a line : " Behold (I said) 
ec On this side, danger and immortal glory : 
cc There, safety and dishonour." Blush, Castile ! 
All, all but thirteen warriors, left Pizarro. 
There, the heav'n-destin'd conquerors of Peru 
Month after month obscurely lay conceal'd, 
And glor knew us not: but, when our foot 
Once trod upon this coast, our second step 
Tow'r'd on the neck of monarchs. 

Alv. On this sword 

I laid, in pledge of faith, a soldier's hand, 
Ere victory blazing round Pizarro's brow 
Had lur'd the fickle noon-swarm. The bright sun 
Allur'd not me, nor shall the storm appal. 
Pizarro's cause is mine: and may this arm 
Wither in battle, when I turn my lance 
Against his helm. 

Piz. Brave chief, behold this gem : 

'Twas king Ataliba's : he died, and left us 
Heir to his wealth. Take, and transmit this jewel 



180 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

To thy son's sons, to late posterity, 
As a memorial that Pizarro knew 
Thy worth, nor lightly honoured it. 

Herald enters. 

Her. My lord, 

The hostage waits thy will. 

Piz. Bring him before us. [Herald goes. 

Your wel 1-weigh 'd voice — I am b ut one amongyou — 
Shall fix his doom. 

Alv. Fain would I, front to front 

Behold him. Since that hard-contested battle 
When singly he assail'd me, as I slew 
His routed host, I ne'er have seen that warrior. 
You still refus'd me. 

Piz. I had ever hope 

So to have sway'd him, that his soul had bow'd 
Submissive to your will : my threats avail'd not. 
Yet — I have witness'd men who boldly brav'd 
A single front, turn pale and quake at sight 
Of chiefs in council. 

Herald enters with Zamorin. 

Alv. In his air and form 

Reigns simple grandeur, and on that calm front 
I trace the visible impress of a mind 
That yields not to base fear. 

\Zamorin regardless of the Council, unclasps 
let, and crushes it, link after link. 
/ ] Oh sacred charge ! 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 181 

Pledge of a monarch's love, a nation's trust, 
Farewell for ever. [Kisses it. 

Alv. Why, Peruvian, thus 

Unclasp that bracelet from thy arm, why rend it 
Link after link ? 

Zam. [to himself.] Not their unhallow'd hands : 
Their touch shall not pollute thee. So, [crushing 

it.'] ..scape 
Their sacrilegious avarice— nor — perhaps — 
Attest Zamorin's frailty. 

Alv. Peruvian ! 

We are not by your spoils so lur'd, so slav'd 
By every glittering toy, that we had stript thee 
Of that poor ornament. Brave Inca, say, 
Why dost thou tread that bauble under foot ? 

Zam. I'll answer thee, when it is crush'd to atoms. 
Say. [To Pizarro.] Have I leave to speak ? 

Piz. We Spaniards, Inca, 

Do not condemn our prisoners unheard. 

Zam. Man, man, thou mock'st me. Look, where 
thou art thron'd, 
Look, where I stand. And hast thou heart to 
mock me ? 

Alv. Thou shalt have patient hearing. 

Piz. We attend. 

Zam. It ever hath been custom with our kings, 
From great Huana Capac, our first monarch, 
The offspring of the sun, when they select 
A leader of their forces, round his arm 
To bind the chain which in the hour of peace 
Circles their neck : that bracelet, linkt by hands 



182 ZAMORIN'AND ZAMA. 

Celestial, all Peru so sacred deems, 

That Cuzco's chiefs beholding it would yield 

The city, and the temple of their god. 

Who bears that bracelet, speaks, and is obey'd 

Like one from heav'n. No eye shall see it more ; 

s Tis crush'd to atoms. 

Alv. ' Wherefore ? 

Zam, I received it 

From good Huascar, on the very night 
He perish'd, by the fell usurper slain, 
Sent by Ataliba, whom you did murder. 

[ The Council murmurs enraged. 

Ben, To torture with him. 

Zam. Whence this sudden rage ? 

Ben. Away with him. 

Zam. In what have I offended ? 

Or can you not in patience hear the deed 
That you had heart to act ? 

Alv. Hear, hear him, comrades ! 

The language of plain truth, howe'er it gall me, 
Is not unwelcome to a soldier's ear. 
On with your speech. You shall not interrupt him. 

Zam. When I came forth your hostage, not your 
prisoner, 
I charg'd Villoma to refuse all terms 
If by that chain unvouch'd ; for I had heard 
That ye had instruments of hellish pow'r 
To force the tongue to utterance : now to feign 
What the soul knew was false, and now deny 
The truth that is our birthright from above. 
I never shrunk, as these deep scars may witness, 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 183 

From wounds in war, but what ye might inflict 
When cool the blood, I knew not. This I know, 
That man is frail : and doubts, yea — fears came o'er 

me, 
Lest in the heart here bosom'd, human frailty 
Might underneath the agony of torture, 
Betray its weakness. 

Ben. Then bid yonder fort 

Instantly yield, or the keen rack shall goad 
Your quivering limbs. 

Zam. I now can stand the trial : 

For what the tongue may rave when nature groans 
In madd'ning torture, now has no avail. 
The chain is crush'd. 

Gulaxa enters in haste. 

Piz. Gulaxa ! 

Gul. Brave Pizarro, 

Art thou prepar'd to lead thy host in arms, 
When I advance the signal ? 

Piz. Yes. Go forth— 

And reign at Cuzco. 

Zam. Reign ! no— base usurper. 

Piz. Pizarro-crowns him. 

Zam. On his brow your hand 

May fix a crown : but you are strangers to us. 
'Tis not the diadem that awes our souls, 
Peru reveres her father in her king : 
Our's is the heart's pure homage. 

Gul. Hear, Zamorin. 



184 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Cuzco obeys my signal . yet — I know 

There are within yon fort who still resist. 

Alone thy influence sways them : bid them yield i 

Enough of blood has stream'd. They who oppose me, 

Shall surely die. 

Zam, I pity whom thou sparest. 

Gul. Think that thou view'st Villoma prone on 
earth. 
His grey hairs stain'd with gore: think on thy Zama, 
When ruthless war unchains his triple fiends., 
Jlapine, and Lust, and Murder. 

Zam. Lord of Nature ! 

Who in yon orb of living light, to earth, 
Faint shadowest forth thy glory : pow'r supreme ! 
Who for high ends to man unsearchable, 
Send'st forth thy dreadful ministers of vengeance, 
Tempest and spotted plague, and flame-wing'd 

bolts ; 
And new, along the violated deep 
Hast pent, more fell than tempest, plague, and fire, 
From other worlds, the outcast of mankind 
To waste this realm : to thee, oh Sun ! I call : 
And join my voice to that which mute to man, 
Pleads audibly in heav'n. and in each drop 
Of innocent blood, spilt upon earth, draws down 
Dire retribution on the murderer's brow. 
Hence— murderer ! 
[Gulaxa -departs. As he goes loud shouts are heard. 
Voices without.'] Almagro. Hail — Almagro, 



ZAM0R1N AND ZAMA. 185 



Herald enters. 

Her. r to Pizarro.'] My lord- — Almagro's son, on 

foaming; steed, 
Speeds thro' your camp : with him his far-fam'd 

leaders, 
Herrada, Garcias, and renown'd Orgognez. 
And — from your squadrons, many a fickle soldier 
Gathers around them. Hark ! [shouts heard.] the air 

resounds 
With shouts of young Almagro. 

Piz. Chiefs, be firm- 

On you Pizarro rests : and plunder'd Cuzco 
Shall all your toils o'erpay — 

Amid sliouts of Almagro — Young Almagro, Her- 
rada, Garcias, and Orgognez, enter. 

Ha ! who art thou ? 
Art thou a spirit risen from the dead, 
To haunt me at mid-day ? 

Aim. None from the dead. 

Herrada ! stay with me : go, trusty Garcias, 
Haste to my sire : relate what here has past. 
Orgognez, ere three hours have wing'd their flight, 
Be it thy charge to lead my chosen squadrons 
To storm this camp, if yet Pizarro brave us. 

[Orgognez and Garcias depart. 
[To Pizarro' s Council.] Are these the chiefs whom 
terror chain' d to earth, 



186 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

When o'er the fosse I sprung, and scal'd the rock? 
And slept jour swords when one of Spanish blood 
Sunk in jour sight ? 

Alt). The sword and lance were pow'rless 

Gainst that proud fort where our good cannon fail'd. 
But — when I saw thee raid surrounding foes 
Rush singlj unappall'd, old Alvarados 
Heard on his back war's iron harness ring. 
Methought in each old scar the whizzing shaft 
Sunk, as when first it pierc'd me, 

Aim. Hear. Pizarro—- 

Dismiss tbj chiefs : let us confer in secret. 

Piz. Retire awhile, my friends. 

[The Chiefs depart. 

Aim. [staying Zamorin.] Is this the hostage ? 

Zam. You see Zamorin. 

Aim. Go not hence, brave man. 

Thro' me thj Zama greets thee. 

Zam. Name her not : 

The very sound unmans me. Zama, Zama, 
Oh may'st thou never hear what I have suffer'd ! 

Aim. [to Pizarro.] Tho' thou resist my sire's just 
claim, and mock 
The Emperor's sacred signet- — 

Piz. [interrupting him.] Heav'n forefend I 

Aim. Yet we maj meet on terms : and, in that 
hope, 
Before thy warriors I reproach'd thee not, 
But face to face here breathe mj just rebuke. 
Yet know I to forgive, and once aton'd, 
Remember not th' offense. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 187 

Piz. Then — we are friends. 

Declare the terms. 

Aim. First, free this hostage. 

Zam. Me? 

Spaniard ! art thou aware of thy demand ? 

Piz. Why free this man, alike thy foe and mine? 

^4/;??. Their fortress I assail'd, they spard my life; 
The sire of this brave man unclasp'd my chains. 
The wife of this brave man spake comfort to rae ; 
And when I seem'd in sorrow, look'd on me 
As one who views a brother. 

Zam. Zam a saw 

Distress, nor ask'd when misery pierced her soul, 
Whether a friend or foe required reiief : 
'Twas human nature suffered,. Zama pitied. 
Spaniard, beneath our roof, in Cuzco's walls, 
The life of man is sacred. 

Piz [to Almagro.~\ You did promise 

To free this chief. 

Aim. My life for his is pledg'd. 

Piz. Say, we release him, you require no more. 

Aim. Nought, but our right, the Emperor's grant. 

Juan enters. 

Juan. Pizarro, 

The beck'ning signal waves from yonder fort, 
Shall I array the troops ? 

Piz. Haste, quickly arm them. 

I, I will Jead them. [Juan goes. 

Aim. Trust not to that signal. 



188 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Piz. You plead the Emperor's grant ! behold my 

title, 
Not penn'd in characters that man can forge. 
Make and unmake at will. [Takes his helmet off'.'] 

"Tis chartered here, 
Imprinted by the iron hand of war, 
On this time-furrow'd front : and till thy sword 
Has raz'd it out, look not to rule at Cuzco. 
Each dent, and honour'd scar that seams this head,, 
Will yawn afresh, wide as when first the blood 
Gush'd from the wound, whene'er Pizarro yields 
What conquest gave him on the well-fought field. 
Here ends our conference. Guard! confine this 

Indian. 



END OF ACT THE SECOND. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 189 



ACT III. SCENE I. 

The Court before the Temple of the Sun. 
Villoma and Zama. 

Zama. Oh ! go not forth ; to others trust the 
charge : 
'Tis not a woman's fear : each voice reports 
Signs of dire portent. 

Vil. Earth has rock'd ere now, 

And red volcanos roar'd- — 

Zama. Not these alone, 

Nor lakes that heav'd when not a light leaf wav'd, 
Nor fiery armies clanging in the skies : 
But from the southern turret one who watch'd 
Last night — [Priests burst in. 

Priest. Hear, hear, Villoma — 

Vil. Why thus burst 

Unbidden ? Wherefore shake thy limbs ? 

Priest. Good father ! 

Vil. Speak, holy man — 

Priest. It was our charge this day, 

To watch the heav'ns : noon's solemn hour drew 

near, 
When, as we gaz'd observant of the God, 
To hymn his mid-day pomp, at once from view, 
While not a cloud obscur'd the golden sky, 



190 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

The sun withdrew his light : and wide o'er heav'n 
From the dark orb thick gathering vapours spread 
Ceaselessly streaming. As our hearts died in us — 
Oh horror ! 

Vil. Speak — 

Priest. The temple's ponderous gates 

Mov'd by an unseen hand, and dreadful groans, 
As from a struggling spirit loath to part, 
Burst from the riven shrine — 

Zama. These, these are sent 

Dire warnings from above. Oh, go not forth. 

Vil. At this dread hour when treason shakes the 
realm, 
And brother against brother arms his hand, 
I will not to another trust that charge 
Which duty binds on me. The will of heaven, 
More audible than prodigies and portents, 
Bids me defend my country. 

Orcas enters. 

Ore. Haste, Villoma ! 

The secret signal floats above the rock : 
Now, mid the traitors, in the cavern's gloom 
Where the sun never shone, Gulaxa leagues 
The murderous band. 

Vil. Say, are th 'appointed guard 

Drawn forth, and well advis'd ? 

Ore, They wait thy word, 

And call on thee to lead them. [Orcas goes. 

Vil. Say, I come — 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 191 

Thou, if this hand, oh Sun, that clasps thy shrine, 
Has ne'er from youth to age been rais'd to thee 
But to invoke from heav'n, on all beneath. 
Thy universal blessings, hear my pray'r ! 
Accept this life, a sacrifice for all ! 
Strike here, and save thy realm ! — My child, fare- 
well ! 

Zama. I will not leave thee at this dreadful hour: 
Zamorin's wife has sway among the chiefs, 
Zamorin's spirit breath'd in softer tone, 
E'en in a woman's voice has pow'r to daunt 
The soul of guilt. 

Vil. Think of thy boding fears — . 

Zama. I have no fear : thy life, thy life's in 
danger. [Exeunt; 

Scene, a Cave. 
Gulaxa, Rim ac, Conspirators. 

Qui. Your stations are assign'd, and ye have 
sworn 
What time Pizarro's trumpet rends the air 
To yield the fortress — 

Rim. Yes, 'tis sworn, Gulaxa, 

But where is Arcal ? 

GuL On the middle rampire 

That skirts the ledge of rocks, his eye o'erlooks 
The Spanish camp. 

Rim. Trust not that man, Gulaxa : 

His life, methinks, is bosom'd in Villoma, 
That he so fears to wound him — 



192 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 



Villoma, Zama, Orcas, Guard, burst in. 

Vil. Seize their weapons. 

Rim. No — not if this a? ail. 

Zama. [catching his lifted hand.] Here, traitor ! 
strike. — 
A daughter's hand has sav'd thee. [To Villoma. 

Vil. Drag them forth, 

Drag forth these serpents from their darksome cave : 
Th' all seeing sun shall glare upon their shame. 

[They drag them forth. 
Traitors, jour doom is death. Kneel not to me. 

\_To Gulaxa. 
I cannot pardon thee. 

Gul. Nor do I ask it, 

But on such terms as shall redeem my soul 
From galling infamy. I boldly claim 
Not mercy, but high praise, and just reward 
Due to a deed that to remotest time 
Shall consecrate my memory. 

Vil. Say on. 

Gul. The signal waves ; the Spaniards soon will 
march : 
I know the impatience of Pizarro's soul : 
That chief will lead them. At the lower fort 
Fix me to guide bis foot-step up the rock : 
Then, ere he cross the outward bridge, this hand 
Shall pierce his breast. 

Zama. Oh more than serpent fell., 

He only wounds, instinctively, in rage, 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 193 

The foot that bruises him : but thou, oh man ! 
Thou with deliberate thought, pondering the means, 
Would'st stab the friend who leans upon thy breast, 
And fell him with thy hand, held forth in act 
Of seeming kindness. 

• Vil. And for this thou claim'st 

Praise and reward : such recompense as suits 
Such actions, be thy meed. When guilt, like thine, 
Stalks forth unpunish'd, he who pardons it 
Incurs the wrath of heav'n. Thy doom is death. 

Ore. [looking out.] Almagro's son, who left this 
morn our walls, 
Returns — and with him— one — 

Zama. Perhaps — Zamorin. 

Vil. [To Orcas who goes out.~\ Conduct them 
hither. Oh ! all gracious lieav'n ! 
Thro' dark and intricate mazes hid from man 
Thy mercy lightens, as the golden sun 
Bursts from the veil of clouds. 

Orcas enters, conducting Almagro and Herrada. 

Zama. It is not — no— 

J Tis not Zamorin. Why that look of woe ? 

[To Almagro. 
Why art thou silent ? oh ! he is no more. 

Aim. I left him living: but — you see me here — - 

Zama. I understand you. He will not live leng. 

Aim. I left him at the mercy of Pizarro. 
Oh, if thou wish to hear his last farewell, 
Or see him more, away : this chief [Herrada.'] shall 
guard thee. 



194 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Rely on him, as oo this willing victim, 
Pledg'd for Zamorin's life. 

Gul. [as Zama is rushing out.'] Stay, Zama, stay S 
But grant me life, [to Villoma.'] and I will mark the 

means 
To free the hostage. To her heart again 
Zama shall clasp her lord. 

Vil. Speak — thou art pardon'd. 

Gul. [pointing to AlmagroJ] Lo, in this chief, 
Pizarro's fellest foe : 
The wish most harbour'd in Pizarro's heart, 
Is this man's death : haste, proffer in excLange 
His corse, and hail Zamorin. 

Zama. No — fell traitor ! 

First, let Zamorin die, and with him, Zama. 
[To Herraela.] Spaniard ! in thee I trust. My sire — 
farewell. 

[Zama rushes out, accompanied by Herrada. 
Vil. Haste, haste, restrain her flight— my daughter: 
Zama ! 
Perfidious murderer ! [to Gulaxa.] No. Thou shalt 

not die : 
It now were mercy. When Pizarro, swol'n \ 
With pride of prornis'd victory, leads his host 
Against this fort, and summons forth his slaves, 
Then — to confound the conqueror, cast before him 
This traitor — chain'd. So in thy doom, that chief 
Shall dread his destiny. 

[To Orcas.~\ Be this thy charge. [Exeunt. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 195 



Scene changes to Pizarro' s Camp. 

Pizarro comes from his Tent, at the sound of 
Trumpets at a distance. 

Piz. Here will I cross their march — 

By Saint Iago, 
Would that smooth sounds, or words of lofty tone 
Might cool these fiery spirits ! 'till yon rock 
Barr'd my free progress, their resistless course 
Swept o'er Peru, from realm to conquer'd realm, 
Following from the east on Victory's eagle wing 
The sun, that like a harbinger before us, 
Lit our long march of glory. \a trumpet."] Hark — • 

a trumpet ! 
The sound of men in arms. 

Lerma and his Host enter 

Lev. Pizarro. 

Piz. Lerma ! 

Ler. Pedro de Lerma. [lifting up his vizor."] 
Look upon him. Halt ! 
Comrades in arms ! 

Piz. Brave warrior ! at this hour 

Why cas'd in steel with these thy valiant men ? 
No herald summond thee. 

Ler. I march, Pizarro, 

To join Almagro's standard. Some have fled 
Like men, guilt-sham'd, as if they fear'd thy frown. 



196 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

I come, as chief meets chief, as foe fronts foe. 
To say that thou hast wrong'd me. 

Piz. No — brave warrior. 

Ler. How. Thou remember'st not ? The injurer 
Can smile on whom he wrong'd; and calmly tender 
His hand in pledge of friendship ! Say,, Pizarro, 
Hast thou forgot the memorable day. 
When swol'n by autumn floods, th' Apurimac 
Barr'd our pursuit ? when, on its crags, your host 
Shrunk back, and nought was heard, when paus'd 

the gust, 
But the flood's ceaseless roar, who, foremost, spurr'd 
His steed careering on the pendulous bridge, 
Which, o'er the torrent, wreath'd from rock to rock, 
Shook its light net-work waving with each wind ? 

Piz. 'Tis fresh in my remembrance. Valiant 
Ler ma, 
Thy steed first cross'd it. 

Ler. You remember that ! 

Then — when the Indians ambush' d 'mid the cliffs, 
Fell on our struggling rear, you bad Henriquez 
Charge with the lances. Was not that my post ? 

Piz. I saw thee not. 

Ler. The routed Indians saw me, 

Who hemm'd Alvarez round : I rescued him ; 
And heard, at my return, Henriquez' name 
Echoed from rank to rank. 

Piz. Forget tli* offence. 

Since then long time has past, and Lerma's merits 
Have not been unrewarded. 

Ler. Years on years 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 197 

Heal not the wound where injur'd honour bled ; 
Once felt, and ne'er forgotten. So., farewell. 
You know this raven plume, that oft in fight 
Has wing'd jour troops to victory : Pizarro, 
Avoid it, and beware of Lerma wrong'd ! 

Piz. Farewell, stern Lerma, nor forget this blade 
When it unplumes thy helm* Avoid Pizarro ! 

[They 'part different ways. 



Scene changes to another part of Pizarro' s Camp. 
Zamorin. 

%am. The stir and shout of the tumultuous camp 
Loud ring from tent to tent : ere-long yon fort, 
Impregnable by pow'r of mortal arm. 
Shall yield its strength, and treason ope its gates 
At stern Pizarro's voice. Oh heav'n-born babe ! 
Sole relic of the race sent down to earth 
To bless this realm ! no more my arm shall guard 

thee. 
Villoma — Zama — hold my madd'ning brain ! 
Not that— not that — no — the fixt earth shall first 
Fall from it shatter'd base : and thou, oh Sun, 
Rush from thy sphere, ere guilt's foul touch pollute 
Her pure and sinless bosom. 

[Juan's voice heard without. 

Juan. When the trumpet 

Summons the warriors, to Pizarro lead them : 
Now strictly guard the tent : let none approach. 



198 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 



Zama speaks in entering* 

Zamorin ! 

Zam. 'Tis her voice. It cannot be. 
Once., once again charm'd Fancy ! breathe that 
sound ! 

Zama. [embracing Mm.] Zamorin. 

Zam. 'Tis herself— angel of light. 

Zama. Yet, yet thou liv'st, and these fond arras 
enfold thee. 
Oh I had fear that never , never more 
This eye had gaz'd on thine. 

Zam. Yes — I will clasp thee,, 

And; ere we part, in thy celestial look 
Taste the pure transport of a world, where love 
"Mid spirits of the blest, links soul with soul 
In everlasting union. Yet — my Zama ! 
I would we had not met, 

Zama. Oh say not that ! 

Zam. Why gaze thus on me with unsated eye ? 

Zama, Oh ! thou art strangely aiter'd, since we 
parted. 
A few, few days. Keen grief has wrung thy soul, 
And each worn feature, as I gaze on thee, 
Wounds me with mute reproach. Had I been here., 
Thou had'st less keenly suffered. 

Zam. That alone, 

I had but that alone to sooth my anguish : 
Thou knew'st it not— 

Zama. • Yet, sure, had I been here. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 199 

Thy soul, tho' pierced with anguish, had found 

peace 
While pillow'd on my breast thy brow repos'd. 
And I had watch' d thy sleep, and if my tears 
Shed in mute wretched uess, had chanc'd to stray 
Down thy pale cheek, my lip had kiss'd them off, 
And met thee with a smile. 

Zam. The past, oh Zama ! 

Wakes not a pang. Would thou wert now away ! 

Zama. Never, Zamorin, will I leave thee more : 
None, none shall part us. Thou wert once unkind, 
Yet was it kindly meant ! but never more 
Force me to quit thee : nor dissolve the dream 
So sweet, of hope, that whispers to my soul 
That I may sooth thy grief. Alas ! Zamorin, 
You hid from me the woe that nature suffers, 
But left me to the nameless agonies 
Of fear's unreal shapings. Yet — my husband — 

Zam. Why that dread silence ? Speak thy inmost 
wish. 

Zama. The fond indulgence of a woman's weak- 
ness 
Must not unman thee : these are ruthless men ; 
And, if thou deem, that death's unpitied pangs 
Will less severely wound thee, if thy Zama 
Be far away : I, now, tho' loth, will leave thee. 
And, yet, mid these rude men, whose brutal rage 
Ends not with life — 

Zam. Cease, cease : you wring my heart. 

Zama. To leave thy untomb'd corse expos'd to 
scorn 



200 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

And insults that the tongue wants strength to utter ! 
Oh by that love which made this earth a heav'n, 
By the blest vow that made us one., refuse not 
My last request !— 

Zam. I was prepar'd for death : 

Thou hast unman 'd me-: 'tis for thee I fear. 

Zama. Thou weep'st, nor longer can'st deny my 
pray'r : 
'Tis what religion prompts, and these bad men, 
Unhallow'd as they are, will not refuse it. 
'Tis but to close the eye which cannot see 
The hand that weighs it down, and smooth the brow 
Insensate to the touch which presses it. 
Nor will they envy me a little spot 
Where I may hide thee in the grave, and pour 
O'er thy cold corse a pray'r, while death steals o'er 
The lip that breathes farewell. [Trumpet sounds. 

Zam. Hark ! that dread signal ! 

Juan enters with a Guard. 

Juan. Bring the Peruvians forth. 

Zam. Art thou prepar'd, 

My Zama ? 

Zama. Yes, Zamorin, thus — [embraces him."] to 
perish, 
And hail the stroke that shall in death unite us. 



END OF ACT THE THIRD. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 201 



ACT IV. SCENE I. 

Tlie Fort of Cusco. 

Pizarro, Alyarados, Benalcazar, ZaMORIN, 

Zama. Soldiers arrayed. 

Piz. Comrades in arms ! 
Who here have watch'd, while through each labour- 
ing change 
The cold moon slowly toil'd, and at the base 
Of these vast rocks, seen the red balls ye launch 'd 
Fall from the unscath'd fortress ! Ye, whom war, 
By irksome trials in the lingering seige 
Has taught to bear the iron yoke that galls 
Proud valour, while your spirit glow'd within you, 
Like the trained war-steed, balancing his pace 
While his eye flames with fire ; lo, there your spoils ! 

[Pointing to the Fort. 
Drag from unfathom'd caves exhaustless wealth, 
And jems that pale the noon-beam : on yon height 
Repose, and one by one tell o'er your scars : 
And where the arrow pierc'd your batter'd mail, 
Close it with plates of gold — 

Ben. Now, give the signal — 
Thy troops demand the spoil. 

Piz. O'er yon proud temple 

When victory waves my banner, Benalcazar, 



202 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Fix on the battlement this Inca's head., 

So shall they perish, all who stood before us 

Barring our way to conquest. 

Zama, Man of blood — 

All— [going to the different chiefs.} are ye all alike? 

Thou aged warrior, po Alvarados.l 
Whose silver beard shows like my father's ! spare 
him ! 

Zam, Zama ! submit in silence. 

Piz. [to his herald.'] Sound the trumpet. 

Summon the fortress., 

Alv. First, Pizarro, hear me— 

This corselet bears the dint of many a wound 
That bought thee conquest: gold and gems I ask 

not. 
I claim his freedom. 

Zama. Thou wcrt born of woman, 

And drops of pity mingled in the breast 
That gave thee milk. 

Alv. [to Zama,] Hang not around me, thus ; 
Mine is no heart of flint : since she who bore me, 
Wept o'er her farewell blessing, this old cheek , 
Has never felt a tear : the drops would' scald 
My eye unwonted to them ~— 
. Ben. Hear, Pizarro, 

Our followers murmur at. this long delay — 

Alv. [to Ben] When Alvarados speaks, he will 
be heard — 
In the last action, when his army fled, 
I found this Inca with the fight o'erdone 
Stretch'don a heap,, Indians and Spaniards slain* 



ZAM0R1N AND ZAMA. 203 

I bad him yield : he answer'd not, but swiftly 
As one just fresh in onset, wrench'd my lance 
From its firm rest : and, as I grasp'd my sword, 
With my own weapon, thro' this iron gauntlet, 
Thus, pierc'd me: and may venom lurk in the 

wound, 
If Aharados see him basely slain 
As he had ne'er known valour. 

Zama. [kisses his hand.'] Zama's lip 
Shall head the wound — 

Piz. [to Alv.~\ Pizarro is thy debtor. 

When the proud fortress yields, release the hostage. 
Summon the place — 

Zam. [advancing.] Pizarro, stay — That fort 
Hangs on my word : be warn'd, and now release me: 
Or rage will prompt strange deeds, which shall 

outlast 
The fame that waits on victory — Peru 
Once more in arms demands her chief: release him, 
Him whom you cannot fear^- 

Ben. Free him, Pizarro — 

Our scanty band scatters at will their myriads 
Like dust before the blast — 

Zam. Boast not, proud warrior ! 

We are not cas'd in mail, we forge not swords 
Edg'd to cut steel, we launch not hidden fires 
That flash, and man is dead, nor mount on steeds 
That crush the foe beneath their iron hoof — 
We fight, as nature dictates : ye are train 'd 
To slaughter as an art : and in mid fight 
Ye speak, and are obey'd, and turn the tide 



204: ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Of battle with a word. Bat, with our shields 
Twin'd rushes of the brook, reed shafts, and spears 

Uobarb'd with iron, and for high-plum'd casque 
A wreath of flow'rs piuck'd from our native soil, 
Arm'd in our country's cause, we will once more 
Front you without a fear— - 

Ben. [to Piz.] These valiant men 

Have eam'd rewards beyond a monarch's ransom, 
And claim the promised spoil. We come not hither 
Thus to be mock'd by slaves, 

Pis. Draw your brave swords, 

Wave your triumphant standards, peal the trumpet. 
Yield to Pizarro's power ! 

Ore. [on the battlement.'] Where is the chief 
Who thrones and unthrones kings ? 

Piz, [advancing.'] Behold Pi zarro — 

Ore. [to the guards within the fort.] Now cast the 
traitor forth, then, close the gates. 
[Gidaxa is cast forth . He kneels to Pizarro . 

Pen. This is no harbinger of victory. 

Alv. [to Gul.] Why dost thou clasp his knees ? 
why prone on earth 
Thus shrouded close from view, as if thou fear'd'st 
That the abhorrent eye should turn from thee 
As from a sight unblest ? 

Zam. Is this the monarch 

Whom great Pizarro crown 'd ? 

Piz. Ye mountains ! crush me ! 

Gape earth that I have drench 'd with blood, and 

hide me 
In central night ! 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 205 

Ben, [to Pizarro.~\ Where are thepromis'd spoils? 

Piz. [confusedly to his army.~] This is not as it 
seems. It moves your wonder. 
Be not alarm'd, my friends : art oft beneath 
The semblance of repulse — Oh heav'n and earth ! 
By all my former fame,, and the proud hope 
Of greater glory, now for ever gone, 
Thou \to Gulaxa.~] shalt not live. 

[Going to stab him. 

Gul. Stay thy impetuous hand : 

I was myself betray'd. Send back your troops. 
Ye^ yet thou shalt succeed. 

Piz. Comrades ! retire 

A little while : here soon to meet again. 
I pray you to the camp. 

[All go hut Pizarro, Juan, and Gulaxa. 

Gul. Grant me but life, 

Villoma shall obey me. 

Piz. Mark me., traitor, 

Oh — if false hope deceive me, thou shalt die 
In lingering agonies. There, fix my banners, 
Now, ere Almagro's swift advancing host 
Pluck conquest from my grasp. 

Gul. 'Tis in thy pow'r. 

Piz. No trifle turns Pizarro from his course. 

Gul. You need but feign the act. 

Piz. Be brief — feveal it — 

Gul. You mark'd that woman whom they lead 
away. 

Piz. Most beautiful. In form, and face, and air, 
Peerless, and rarely grac'd. 



208 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Gul. You know her rank. 

Piz. Zamorin's wife. 

Gul. Know you nought else ? 

Zam. No more, 

Gul. She is a daughter of the sun : a Coya. / 

Piz. [impatiently .] Well, well. 

Gul. You heed me not. She is a Coya, 

Pure in her veins, from our first monarch, flows 
Her blood by mortal mixture unprofan'd. 
Her father, in yon rock-built temple, serves 
The sun, his sire and god, — her life is sacred — 
You understand me : let me add no more. 

Piz. Her life is sacred. I have heard such tales ; 
But these vain dreams and visions of weak fancies., 
Past with the hearing. 

Gul. Oh you misconceive it : 

So sacred are their lives, that he who wounds them 
Unknowingly, nay, tho* devoid of sense, 
Idiot or lunatic, no longer dwells 
With man, but from the social tie cut off, 
Strays lone on earth, amid the beasts of the wild. 
Who slays a Coya, is entomb'd aliye, 
His race from earth swept off, and e'en the ground 
That fed him, hid with stones, which he who passes,, 
Casts with a curse upon it. 

Pis;. Then — you mean 

That I sWbuld slay this daughter of the sun, 
If her stern sire refuse to yield the fort. 

Gul. You need but threaten it. But ne'er Villoma 
Will yield the fort, unsanction'd by Zamorin. 
A solemn vow restricts him. Free the hostage : 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 207 

Let him once more to Cuzco's walls return ; 
And when Villoma and Zamorin view 
The Coja in thj pow'r — 

Piz. [interrupting him.] It cannot fail — 
Juan — delay not — to Zamorin haste ; 
Release the hostage : this the sole condition, 
That young Almagro in yon walls remain 
A captive : here, with us, the Coya rests, 
Pledge of Zamorin's words. [Juan goes.] Guards ! 

seize this traitor, [Gulaxa.] 
And underneath yon rock that view'd our shame, 
In torturing pangs inflict his doom of death. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene changes to the Camp. 

Zamorin and Zama. 

Zam. Oh hapless country ! by thy native race 
Betray'd to merciless men ! 

Zama Yet some remain 

Unshaken : from the rest, when thou went'st forth, 
Hope fled : from thee the general spirit flow'd 
As light from heav'n. Thy influence reign'd in all ; 
Thou wert their voice in counsel, strength in war, 
In woe, sole prop : thou went'st, and dark despair 
Fell on the brave : while strange extravagant tales 
That made the Spaniards, gods, found sure belief 
In the base fear that forg'd them. 

Zam. Lost Peru ! 

Oh could they hear my voice ! e'en now, ere night, 



208 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Spaniards 'gainst Spaniard, arra'd by demons, clash 

In unforgiving contest. Knew they this, 
Hope would revive, and with reviving hope, 
Th' unconquerable will, and pow'r to quell 
Th 5 invader. Oh ! how gladly would I pour 
My willing blood upon my native earth, 
If my blest voice, in death, might warn Peru 
Of fate to come ! 

Juan enters. 

Juan. Zamorin, thou art free : 

Go to yon fort, and as becomes the brave. 
Defend thy country. 

Zam. Gracious heav'n ! I thank thee ! 

Yet much I fear thou mock'st me. 

Juan. Thou art free. 

Yet — -hear the terms. 

Zam. I knew that thou did'st mock me. 

You need not name them. 

Juan. Had thy will consented 

To young Almagro's death, the western world 
Had own'd thy rule. 

Zama. He came, a willing victim 

Pledged for thy life. [Zamorin.~\ By his kind aid I 

stand 
Here at thy side. 

Zam. You may depart. 

Juan. Yet — hear me : 

Nor price of blood, nor aught unjust I claim : 
This only, to detain him in yon fort 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 209 

A prisoner : Zama, hostage for thy word 
Here, in our guard, remains, [after a long pause.'] 
You answer not. 

Zama. Yes. He consents. Oh, linger not, 
Zamorin. 
Away, [aside to Zamorin.'] and warn Peru of fate to 

come. 
Farewell. 

Zam. Oh man ! thou hadst not hope to move me. 

Juan. I understand thee not. 

Zam. Then briefly this, 

We love our wives, and in that name comprise 
All that earth holds most sacred. Thou art answer'd. 

Zama. Good Spaniard ! I may move him : pray 
retire. [Juan goes, 

[After a long silence.] You will consent. 

Zam. Never. 

Zama. You love me not. 

Zam. Far beyond life. 

Zama. More than thy country's freedom, 

Than virtue, self-esteem, vows fix'd in heav'n, 
That vow, which when Huascar's spirit fled, 
Left on his corse a smile ? thee I have lov'd 
With that pure ardour, which to rightly name it, 
Seems likest adoration : for in thee, 
Virtue in human shape, gave me on earth 
The foretaste of hereafter. I have liv'd 
In that persuasion blest : so let me die. 
Oh say, you will consent. 

Zam. Art thou aware 

Of their intent ? 



210 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Zama. I think I shall not live. 

Zam. 'Tis plain as if Pizarro's voice proclaimed it : 
Thee, they will drag thee underneath the fort, 
And in a father's sight-^- 

Zama. [interrupting him."] Oh name it not. 

Zam. 'I he fiend will pierce thy bosom, if 
Villoma 
Refuse to yield the fort. Zama, a father 
Can ne'er endure that sight. 

Zama. Thou wilt be with him : 

Control him — and then — sooth him, that he feel not 
That he has lost a child. 

Zam. How shall I stand 

Unshaken, when a father's heart drops blood ? 

Zama. Thou art the column that supports Peru. 

Zam. It is thy voice, but thou hast chang'd thy 
nature. 
Thy eye, that gazes on me, sheds no tear, 
While mine — 

Zama. Spare, pity me, consent, farewell. 

Zam. Is it a trivial thing to part with life, 
That we no more shall meet as once in bliss ? 

Zama. Husband ! clasp, clasp me in thy arms, 
then ask 
That question, and my heart shall answer thee. 
Thus, [embracing Mm.'] we will die together. Yet — 

I fear 
Peru's deep curse will load our parting breath. 

Zam. Thou more than woman. 

Zama. No, a weak, frail woman, 

Who has not chang'd her nature : one, from love 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 211 

Who borrows strength beyond her pow'r, to utter 
What breaks her heart. Say, that we live, Zamorin, 
And yield the fort; the earth will groan beneath us; 
The sun withdraw his light that we hare hymn'd, 
Both when it rose and set ; for still it blest 
Our love, whose bond was virtue. We may shun 
A scornful world : how shall we shun ourselves, 
The worse despisers ? Say, we die together ; 
My father to redeem our corse from insult 
Would yield the fort, but — as he tomb'd our 

bones, 
Shame would suspend his blessing. Fix our doom: 
My soul, high-strain'd. beyond its nature, leans 
On thee for aid : oh, by thy virtue, husband, 
Give strength to mine. Oh let me die in peace, 
And make my memory blest. 

[Rushes out, hut returns. 

Zam. Farewell— be blest — 

Yet — yet. I have a fear. 
How shall I speak it ? these are bad, bad men. 
When he, who should protect, is far away, 
When most his aid is wanted — 

Zama. Spous'd in heav'n ! 

Let not a fear for me disturb thee more ! 
I can protect myself — depart in peace I 

Zam. What thy intent ? 

Zama. Ere the good Spaniard went, 

Who brought me hither, I entreated him 
One favour for Almagro's sake : he gave it : 
Uncertain as I was what doom might wait me, 
I begg'd this steel. I will not rashly use it. 



f 

212 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

But when all else shall fail, 'twill be no crime 
To rescue a pure daughter of the sun, 
Thy wife, fiom touch unblest. 
Zam. [embraces her.'] We meet — in heav'n. 



END OF ACT THE FOURTH. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 213 



ACT V. SCENE I. 

Tlie Sanctuary of the Temple of the Sun. On each 
side of the Sun, Mazing over his Altar, the em- 
balmed bodies of the Peruvian Emperors, from 
Manco Capac their first Sovereign, seated on 
golden thrones. 

Villoma, Zamorin, Peruvian Chiefs. 

Vil. Defenders of your country ! 
Approach, and on this bloodless altar lay 
Your hands, the plighted witness of your vow. 

Peruv. We lay our hands — 

Vil. Now vow ye will perform 

Whate'er Zamorin urges. 

Peruv. Hear our vow ! 

Zam. [to Vil.'] Thy duty now is o'er. Oh holy 
father ! 
Retire, I pray thee. On their souls I bind 
A dreadful charge : their, country's freedom claims 

it: 
A charge of bloody whose utterance were unfit 
For thy pure ear. [Vil. departs. 

Zam. Defenders of Peru ! 
Who here in awful ecstasy adore 
High wonders ne'er expos'd to eyes on earth 
Save the Sun's hallow'd race : ye, whom pure zeal, 



214 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

And that great cause which consecrates your vow, 
The freedom of your country, here unites 

In holiest league : by him, who on yon \_Manco 
CapacJ] throne, 

Now o'er you bends, the founder of our country, 

Who from their rocks first drew our sires, and tam'd 

To social life, when lone, dispersed, they wander'd 

O'er earth's wide wilderness, where man and beast 

Grappled for nature's sov'reignty -'_; by him 

Who first unclos'd the unaccustom'd heart 

To pity, tenderness, and gentle joys, 

Who to the woods and wilds brute passion chas'd, 

And taught the interchange of soul with soul, 

And sympathies of kin that make on earth 

Each home a blissful heav'n :— By Him, my voice 

Adjures you, to resist the fell invader, 

Or with your realm, religion, freedom, laws, 

In one wide wreck expire — 

■ Peruv. We will resist 

Or perish.— Lead us forth — 

Zam. -No, not to war ; 

'Tis not to battle that I urge you forth, 
To combat with a foe whom hell has arm'd 
With its own fires. — They told you they were Gods: 
You found them hid beneath their iron mail 
Men sensible of pain ; and I have found them 
Men viler than the beast that roams the wild. 
Hear, and rejoice, and hymn the song of praise : 
Ere night, their hosts by rival chieftains arm'd 
In merciless combat meet. Thou stand, Peru, 
Aloof, and when th'exhausted victor mourns 



ZAMORIN AND ZAM A. 215 

His conquest, sweep from earth that groans beneath 

them 

v 

The wretched remnant of these Gods distain'd 
With kindred murder. 

Peruv. On their head our vengeance ! 

Zam. Be firm ; ye must endure a dreadful test : 
I cannot speak it. Yet, whatever ye view, 
E'en tho' Villoma in the dust before you 
Strew his grey hairs, and pray you spare his age : 
E'en tho' the chief whose charge now binds your 

souls, 
Should, slave of human frailty deny 
The oath that past his lip, swear ye will guard 
The fort till death. — Vow this, or now resign 
Your lives, your liberty, your king, your God, 
At fell Pizarro's word. 

Peruv. Our oath is fix'd. 

Zam. Then ye are conquerors — now, friends ! 
farewell — 
Each to his separate charge, and guard the gates, 
Lest rous'd to frantic agony, Peru 
Burst them, and yield the fortress — 

Peruv. We have vow'd — 

[Peruvian chiefs depart, 

Zam. [falls on the altar.] Oh thou, who view'st 
the heart ! thou, to whom thought 
Speaks without tongue ; to thee is no disguise. 
Therefore, accept for incense, this deep sigh ; 
For sacrifice, these tears wrung from the heart 
And streaming on thy shrine. These now may fall 
Blameless, unseen of man. Yet, not the less 



n6 'ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Sustain me to th* accomplishment, and fill 

With dauntless force, that in thy cause my soul 
May triumph ; and when free Peru shouts forth 
The hymn of praise, rejoin my bride in heay'n^! 

\_Exit. 



Scene changes to Pizarro's Camp. , 
Pizarro, Alvarados, Soldiers. 

Biz. [to Mv.~] Speed, speed, brave chief! the 

field may yet be ours. 
Lead forth thy charge, and, as the foe ascends 
Yon mound, where our brisk cannon shall confound 

them, 
Assail them unawares— 

Benalcazar enters. 

Well, Benalcazar t 
Ben. Caudia contemns thy offer • he is gone, 
With him his valiant pikemen — 

Biz. Then, brave chiefs, 

We shall have more to conquer. Haste, Alvarez : 
Bring 1 Zarna hither — - 

Alt. What now thy intent 

I do not look to fathom ; but, beware— 
'Tis loudly rumour'd thro' th'unquiet camp 
That from yon fort releas'd, Almagro's son 
Heads his fleet squadrons. All, with eager voice 
Count and recount his force, and, as fear reckons, 
Swell them at every numbering — 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 217 

Piz. Brave Castillians ! 

The lion counts not when he thins the herd — 
On you brave chiefs, Przarro's glory rests : 
Lead forth your separate charges. 

[Alvarados and Benalcazar go. 

Zama enters. 

Zama, say, 
If Cuzco saw beneath her sacred walls 
A daughter of the Sun, and o'er her breast 
The quivering dagger gleam., in act to strike. 
Would not thy race to rescue her from death 
Resign the fort,' and hail with grateful shout 
The foe who spar'd her life ? 
- Zama. A crime so fell 

Would draw down fire from heav'n — 

Piz, Thou art the victim, 

And I — [Zama kneels.'] kneel not to me : beneath 

yon walls 
Urge thy request. Thy race are prone to pity ; 
A father, and a husband will avert 
The threatened deed— - 

Zama. They will not yield the fortress. 

A daughter of the Sun now bows before thee, 
Who ne'er has bow'd the knee to mortal man. 
Grant my request — 

Piz. Thy life depends on them — 

Zama. Of life I have no hope : I urge no pray'r 
That thou, Pizarro, may'st not justly grant. 
I shall not live : nor will Zamorin lone: 



nS ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Survive my loss : but it will sooth Villomaj 
And seem like shew of solace to his tears 
That they are shed upon his daughter's corse. 
He is a time-worn man, bow'd by sore grief, 
And ere he close my last sad rites, he too 
May rest with me. He is a holy man, 
And heav'n till now has smil'd upon his pray'r ; 
Grant this, and if indulgent Heav'n will hear 
The voice of one who for her murderer pleads, 
Pangs less severe in death's dread hour shall rack 
Thy struggling spirit. 

A Spanish Chief enters. 

Cliief. As the gale comes on, 

An Intermingled noise of neighing steeds, 
And troops that shout to battle, mark the advance 
Of fierce Almagro's force. 

Juan enters. 

Juan. Haste, Pizarro — 

Summon Zamorin : bid him yield the fort, 
Of view his Zama perish— 

Piz. Speed, brave Juan, 

Lead forth my chosen guard, and, if avail 
Or skill or courage, yet awhile resist 
Almagro's numbers. — Zama, to yon fort. [Exeunt. 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 219 

Scene changes to the Fort. 
Zamorin and Almagro in a watch-tower. 

Zam. Look o'er yon rising mound. Again they 
rally. 
Again they charge the foe, and bravely combat 
As men who fear not death — 

Aim. No more detain me — ■ 

You sav'd my life, for you my blood shall flow : 
Mine to confront the danger, yours alone 
The fruits of victory. 

Zam. On either wing 

They hem them round, and bear down all before 

them. 
See, from your numerous squadrons, once again 
Their routed lances fly — 

Aim. Another troop 

Rush from the camp : the men who fled but now 
Turn back on their pursuers. Steed on steed 
Confus'dly clash, and mix in doubtful fight. 
I will not tamely see my warriors slain : 
Detain me not : this arm shall turn the battle : 
This arm shall rescue Zama. 

Zam. No, brave knight, 

My word is pledg'd : I trust th'event to Heav'n — • 
But no false word shall stain Zamorin's lip — . 
Ah ! who yon chief ? \_a trumpet is heard- 

Piz, [behind the scenes.'] Zamorin. 



220 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 

Zam. Hold, my heart 5 

'Tis he : 'tis fierce Pizarro, to these wails 
Swift he advances. Aid me, Heav'n ! 



Pizarro, Zama, Spanish Chiefs, Soldiers, enter. 

Piz. [entering.'] Villoma, 

Zamorin, yield the fort, or now the Coya 
Bleeds in your sight. Peruvians ! yield the fort, 
Or now the sacred daughter of the Sun 
Pollutes with blood your consecrated walls. 

[Villoma, Zamorin, Almagro, Peruvian Chiefs, 
People, &;c. rush to the lower battlements.^ 

Vil. My child— my child ! 

Zam. Sustain me now, oh Sun ! 

Remember, chiefs ! your vow : keep back the throng ! 

Piz. [standing over Zama with his drawn dagger.] 
Consent, or now she dies. 

Vil. Hear ! Pizarro ! 

Draw back the steel : the fort, the fort is thine. 
Release me from my vow ! [to Zamorin.] it is thy 

wife, 
It is thy wife, Zamorin ! hear, Peruvians ! 
Her blood be on your head : the Sun's pure blood ! 
By these grey hairs ! I kneel to you, my children. 
Oh spare a wretched father, spare my age. 
I have but her. * [Villoma faints. 

Zam. Convey him from the walls. 

Chiefs, [to Zamorin^] Release us from our oaths. 

People. Oh horror ! horror ! 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 221 

Come on— force back the bars. Resist us not. 

\_Tothe Chiefs. 
Pizarro ! sheath thy blade : we yield the fort. 
Piz. Haste., soldiers I fix your standards on yon 

walls. 
Zama. There is no other aid. Zamorin, turn 
Thy eyes away, [going to stab herself, is prevented 
by Pizarro. ,] Oh feeble arm ! 
Piz. Peruvians, 

Unbar the gate?, or now the Coya dies. 

Voices without. ] Almagro ! victory, victory, 
Almagro ! 

Orgognez rushes in with Almagro's conquering 
army. 

Aim. Pizarro, free the Coya, or thou diest. 
Piz. [his lifted dagger in act to strike.'] Nay— if 
thou threaten. 

Benalcazar and Alvarados, brought in Prisoners 
and wounded. 

Benalcazar, bleeding ! 
Thou too, [to Alvarados] disarm'd ? 

Alv. His forces o'ermatch'd ours. 

Aim. Hear, Pizarro ! 
Release her, or thou diest, and these thy chiefs 
Perish in lingering agonies : restore her, 
And in exchange receive their ransom'd lives. 

Piz. And may I trust to thee ? 



222 ZAMORIN AND ZAMA: 

Aim. [to Orgognez.] Brave chief, release them. 

Alv. [after being released.'] Free her, or Alvarados 
joins Almagro. 

Piz. [sheaths his dagger, and frees Zama.] 
Pizarro knows thy worth. 

Aim. Descend, Zamorin, 

Thy firmness has prevail'd. In friendly league, 
Beneath Almagro's pow'r, bear rule o'er Cuzco. 
But — if the league with Spaniards seem offence, 
Almagro shall confirm Pizarro's word. 
I will relieve the fort : thou, arm Peru : 
The rest is Heav'n's. Now, bid the gates unclose : 
Descend, and from a Spaniard's hand receive " 
Thy peerless bride ! 

[The gates are flung open, Zamorin descends, 

Zam. Spaniard ! in thee I trust. 

Zama. [They rush into each other's arms.] Thou 
more than mortal ! 

Zama. My Zamorin ! 

Zam. Once more, once more on earth we shall be 
blest. 
And thou, [to Almagro.] who hast redeem'd the 

name of Spaniard 
From ever-dun ng guilt, hear the last sound 
That from Zamorin's voice shall reach thy ear, 
Till in the van of battle, front to front, 
Each leading on his host to death or conquest, 
Our shouts immingle. Hear me praise thy virtue, 
While I renounce thy friendship. We are foes. 
Ye have destroy'd my country, have defac'd 
A realm on whose untam'd fertility 



ZAMORIN AND ZAMA. 223 

The sun look'd kindly down, and prosperous show'rs 

Pour'd forth perpetual harvests : ye have outrag'd 

A people, whom content, and peace, and love, 

Had bound in purest bliss, that gave to man 

In this terrestrial paradise, the pledge 

Of heav'n's assur'd beatitude. Oh, stranger ! 

This race, this realm, this paradise, your steel 

And ruthless flame have wasted : I oppos'd : 

Nor shall this arm, till death relax its vigour, 

Fail to avenge the outrage. Can you say, 

" Forgive the offence, be it no more remember'd ?" 

Go, gather up your host. Hence, as you came : 

And when th' unfathomable deep that severs 

Our hostile worlds, rolls all its strength between us: 

And when our blissful brides, who ne'er have heard 

The name of Spaniard, to their bosoms press 

A new-born race : and new-born flow'rs and fruits 

Hide every spot whereon your foot found rest, 

You are forgiven. Till that day, Zamorin 

Feeds in his heart just vengeance. Now- — farewell. 



THE END. 



THE CONFESSION, 



A TRAGEDY 



FIVE ACTS. 



y Monks. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Men. 
Provost. 
Prior. 
Sacristan. 

Steward. ■ 

Confessor. 

Infirmier. J 

Julian, Count of Tortona, under the name of Alfonso, 

'performing the functions of Hospitalier 

to the Convent. 
Francis, Servant of Agnes. 
Claude, Guide. 
Peasants, Assassins. 

Women. 

Agnes, Countess of Tortona. 

Ellon. 

Female Attendants belonging td Agnes. 

SCENE, the Convent of the Great St. Bernard, 
and the Hocks adjoining. 

Time, that of Representation. 



THE CONFESSION 



ACT I. SCENE I. 

The wildest Alpine scenery of ice-mountains and 
precipices covered with snow, in the environs of 
the Great St. Bernard. The travellers are seen 
on different heights amid the windings of the rock, 
slowly descending the pass leading to the Vallais. 
First, Francis with two Guides exploring the way, 
and sounding the hollows with long poles : then 
Agnes by herself preceding a litter borne by the 
mountain-peasants: on either side of the litter a 
female Attendant, followed by a Page. 

Agnes. 

Agnes. Oh glorious Sun ! illurain'd by thy beams 
These wastes of snow, these Alpine solitudes 
Have pow'r to sooth me. [advancing, and looking on 

different parts. ] How distinct each rock, 
Smooth-brow'd, or spiring* high its tapering peak ! 
Yon range of wavy sweep, and this that breaks 
Eastward in varied forms like floating; clouds ! 
Their hues, how changeful ! these, of roseate glow, 



230 THE CONFESSION. - 

Those, azure-dy'd : and some that climb the sky 
Fling to the light their summits cop'd with gold ! 
Oh thou, who spak'st creation into birth, 
How glorious, Lord of Nature, these thy works : 
How awfully sublime ! 

Fran. Each step we tread 

Leads to new dangers. 

Guide. Sound that snow-heap 'd cave. 

Fran. How fearfully yon tumbling rock o'er- 
hangs [Turning back to Agnes. 

The narrow pass. Beware ! 

Agnes. Proceed, good Francis. 

Fran. Here yawns a chasm, down whose depth, 
the sight 
Wanders without repose. I'll gaze no more : 
Its very horror, while it shocks the sense, 
Most strangely fascinates. [He advances, 

These slippery fragments, 
Hurl'd by the tempest from the crags above, 
Roll loose beneath me. — Lady, let me aid you : 
Lean on this faithful arm. 

Agnes. My foot treads firm. 

To those who know not grief such ways are painful. 
I have within my soul what mocks at toil. 

Fran, You were in luxury nurs'd, nor have been 
us'd 
To scenes like these : I, in my childhood, rock'd 
In want's stern cradle feel these aged sinews, 
That never shrunk in war, ache with each step 
As slow I labour on. Oh, honour'd lady ! 
The holy brothers of St. Bernard wara'd you 



THE CONFESSION. 231 

Not to attempt the pass. Return, I pray. 
Yet, jet amid the rocks a lingering echo 
Heaves back the slow clang of the convent bell. 
It is for you I fear. 

Agnes. My will is fix'd. 

Go with the guides, and timely warning give 
If aught impede the way. The topmost snow 
Stirr'd by the zephyr's breath, may swell before it 
To size impassable. 

Fran. I must obey. 

Agnes, [to those zvho bear the litter.] Be careful, 
I beseech you ; this steep path 
Betrays th 'unsteady foot : guard well the litter : 
You shall not lack reward. Kind, gentle maids, 
Be watchful of your charge. I first, myself, 
Will this sharp ridge explore. So may'st thou, Ellen, 
Securely pass, and ere death end thy woe 
Find peace once more ! 

Fran, [to the guides.^ Heard you that sound ? 
Guide. Most plainly — 

The voice of men advancing. 

Fran. List! again 

Up as the gale comes slowly from beneath, 
I hear distinct the noise of echo'd steps. 

Guide. 'Tis strange in this new season; so far 
well, 

Claude enters. 

The rocks below are open. — Welcome, Claude: 
It is the provost's guide. Thrice welcome Claude : 
How fares the reverend Albert ? 



232 THE CONFESSION. 

Claude. Heav'n has heard 

The convent pray'rs : he looks restored to youth : 
Another man ! 'Twill cheer your heart to see him. 
He will be here in th 'instant. — Hark, they come. 
I haste to warn the convent. Fare you well. 

Guide. Oh happy hour ! Heav'n guard his sacred 
life. 

Claude, [going, speaks to Agnes.] Lady ! I pray 
you let the litter rest : 
And in this cave, that fronts the mid-day sun., 
Wait till the train pass by. This narrow ridge 
Will else your lives endanger. [Claude goes. 

Agnes, [to her train,'] Repose awhile, my friends ! 
and in this cave 
Set down the litter. Your good Provost comes — 
Not these bleak rocks alone, and the Alpine swains 
Echo his praises : far and wide his virtues 
Call forth the general blessing on his head. 

The Provost and his train enter : as the Provost 
passes, Agnes speaks. 

Your benediction, father ! 

Pro. Peace be with you ! 

Those widow's weeds, this melancholy train : — 
Daughter, you seem in woe, and pale your cheek 
Thro' sorrow more than years : what urgent cause 
Compells you to these mountains ? 

Agnes. Holy father ! 

I pray you pardon me, nor deem me one 
Rude or untouch'd by kindness, that I leave you, 



THE CONFESSION. 233 

I\Fv tale of grief untold. — These sable weeds 
But ill express the anguish of my soul. 
But seek not out the cause. The pow'r who tries 
The mourner, smites in mercy. Thou hast blest me: 
Farewell — 

Pro. Yet, mark me, daughter, no vain wish 
To hear what may in utterance grieve thy spirit, 
And ill may suit my years : but sacred duties 
By heav'n enjoin' d, and sympathy of nature 
That bids an old man, vers'd himself in woe, 
Feel for the grief of others, prompt my speech, — 

Agnes. When thou dost pray for those who grieve 
on earth, 
Remember me. 

Pro. Yet there are lenient words, 

Balm of the soul. Daughter, my way of life 
Has been where sinners wept, where sorrow sigh'd, 
And anguish groari'd around me : and I know 
How willingly the mourner, bow'd with woe,, 
"Broods o'er the secret pang that life consumes. 
This must not be : heav'n link'd us heart to heart 
To heighten every pleasure, and by sharing 
Lessen the load of misery. — Silent still ? 
Turn not away regardless. 

Agnes. No, good father ; 

Each word thou speak'st is treasur'd in my soul. 
AVould I might freely at thy feet pour forth 
What weighs upon my heart. I am not one 
Infirm of mind who fondly broods o'er woe. 
These tears, that will not be supprest, gush out 
Not for myself alone. One farewell pray 'r. 



234 THE CONFESSION. 

Trust me, the burden of my grief is lightened : 
For thou hast pitied me. 

Pro. In silence mourn, 

I will not urge thee more. Heav'n sooth thy soul ! 
But I conjure thee, if thou value life 
Turn to our hospitable roof again : 
There wait till fitter season may ensure 
Thy safe departure. Duty forc'd my step 
Now in this hazardous time : not far the roof 
That shelters me : but long thy way, and perils 
No arm of man can ward, surround the path 
Where-ere thou goest. And these lone rocks at times 
Are crost by ruthless robbers, 

Agnes. I must on. 

Pro. No roof, no shelter near, nor safe return, 
If the dim night-fall steal on thee unwares. 
And oft the sun in these unsteady skies 
Sinks, ere its close, in tempest. 

Agnes, I must on. 

[Pointing to the litter.'] Here lies a hapless woman, 

one who wastes 
Hourly away, worn out with ceaseless woe : 
An uncomplaining sufferer, nigh to death : 
A native of yon vale ; her only wish 
Is yet once more to view the peaceful spot 
To childhood dear, and there to find her grave 
Amid her kin. Farewell. 

Pro. May heav'n protect thee ! [Exeunt omnes. 



THE CONFESSION. 235 

Scene the second, the Convent Cloisters. 

Prior and Confessor. 

Prior. Say, hast thou found Alfonso ? 

Con. No, good Prior. 

He mus'd not in his cell, nor duely came 
To join th' assembled monks, 
Ere the fixt duties of the convent call'd 
Each to his separate office. 

Prior. 'Tis most strange. 

Con. I have made careful search, and closely 
question'd 
The brethren, one by one. 

Prior. Who last beheld him ? 

Con. Juan. At dawn while he unbarr'd the gates, 
Alfonso darted forth 
Striking his breast in anguish. 

Prior. Heav'n protect him ! 

Sooth, all ye sainted host, his woe-worn soul ! 

Con. Alas ! my mind misgives me. 

Prior. How ? 

Con. I fear 

We ne'er shall see him more. Unhappy man ! 
Our holy Provost to these walls returns 
To fix anew our duties. Much methinks 
He dreads the issue of that solemn inquest. 
Which here confirms him in his perilous charge, 
His only solace : or for ever drives him 
From this lone roof. To him he must reveal 



236 THE CONFESSION. 

The anguish of his spirit. Hapless man ! 
Fain had he died unknown ! 

Prior. Hear, holy Saint ! 

Thou, who didst found 'mid everlasting snows 
These walls, thy earthly residence, look down I 
Look down on him whose unremitted zeal 
At life's dread risk, has highly minister'd 
To thy most blest intent ! — Hear, holy Bernard, 
Nor to the storm and conflict of dark passion. 
Abandon poor Alfonso ! 

Con. Yes, my brother, 

Service like his, nor wealth, nor worldly honours 
Gain or repay : its source is in the heart ; 
And in the spirit that there prompts to act, 
Finds its sole recompense. 

Prior. If fervent pray'rs, 

If tears of gratitude by others shed, 
The pilgrim and lone stranger, at life's hazard, 
By brave Alfonso rescu'd from destruction, 
Could heal the wound that bleeds with inward pangs 
Peace on his soul had shed her lenient balm : 
But 'tis not so with him. 

Con. No — many a time 

When the lost travellers, whom his arm from far 
Bore 'mid the howling night-storm, whom his hand 
Long chaf 'd before the hearth, with grateful look 
First turn'd th' awaken'd eye on poor Alfonso, 
Who hung all pity o'er the seeming corse : 
How have I seen him from his dark cheek dash 
The tear away, and fly the open'd lip 
That pour'd its blessing on him, 



THE CONFESSION. 237 

Steward enters with Laymen bearing logs, fyc. 

Stew. Haste,, my friends, 

Rake up the embers, pile the glowing hearth 
With unctuous pine, 

The sight shall cheer him, and the crackling blaze 
Breathe grateful fragrance round. Then, deck the 

board, 
And freely cull what best may furnish out 
Our frugal banquet. {Exeunt Laymen. 

Con. Whence this sudden haste ? 

Stew. Ring out the convent bell, that the loud peal 
Recal each absent brother. None must fail 
Of their accustom'd duty. 

Prior. Stay* good Steward. 

Stew. The Provost is expected, and each moment 
We look to greet him. 

Prior. All good angels guide him ! 

But say who brought 

The welcome news ? for scarce the lower rocks 
Peep thro' the snow : and, save some pilgrim bound 
On feaiful penance, and that mournful train 
Who left at morn the convent, none have dar'd 
The dangerous pass. 

Stew. You know the southern guide. 

Prior. What, faithful Claude ? He, who for many 
a season 
Has claim'd the convent prize, his custom'd due 
Who from the pass first clears the drifted snows ? 
Stew. The same. He left our long-expected 
Provost 



238 THE CONFESSION. 

Now as he slowly up the mountain toil'd. 
Farewell ; my charge awaits me. [Exit. 

Prior. Peace be with you ! 

Alas, no common call,, in this rude season,, 
Has forc'd good Albert, Jbow'd with weight of years, 
To leave the shelter of the peaceful vale. 
'Tis not alone to fix our separate charge ; 
Mandates from Rome, strictly to scrutinize 
Each layman and poor hind that serves the convent, 
(For rumour dwells on bad men harbour'd here) 
Now urge his step. 

Con. Full well we know his mission 

That shames this sacred roof. Alas ! that slander 
Should feign, that here the ruffian and fell murderer 
Unquestion'd guests,, have found familiar shelter. 
Such haunt not here. Sad years of ceaseless wars 
That long have wasted fair Italia' s plain, 
Turning to barrenness her fruitful soil, 
Have steel'd men's hearts ; and, haply, from the 

camp, 
Outcasts, who prowl when late the battle bled, 
And pluck'd, 'tis said, while the warm blood yet 

flows v 

The covering from the wound, at times have sought 
Night shelter from the storm. Else, never here 
Have lawless men found refuge. 

Prior. Go, my brother, 

Ere Albert yet arrives, search out once more 
Alfonso's lonely haunt, Heav'n guide thy steps ! 

[Exeunt. 

END OF ACT THE FIRST. 



THE CONFESSION. 239 



ACT II. SCENE I. 

TJie Convent Hall. 

Provost, Prior, Confessor, oilier Brethren, and 
Laymen. 

Pro. [to the Laymen] Brothers ! no charge of 

murder rests on them. 
Depart in peace, my friends ! Heav'n's blessing on 

you ! 
Would that the princes of the world, and those 
That sigh on golden beds, could lay, like you, 
Hands innocent of ill, on guiltless hearts, 
And taste such sleep as yours ! depart in peace ! 

Sacristan enters. 

Sac. Alfonso is relurn'd — yet — hapless man ! 

Pro. Why stands he not, as duty bids, before us? 

Sac. Oh he is loth to come. 

Pro. This is most strange. 

Sac. I found him, in the cemetery, lone, 
'Mid many a stranger corse, uns<pulchred, 
Still-gazing on that pslgivim, lately found 
When slipt the snow-heap from the southern ridge. 
His face was yet unchang'd, and calm each feature 
As when he rested on the snow, while death 



240 THE CONFESSION. 

Stole on his sleep. So calm,, Alfonso look't, 
Such too his smile: each seem'd the other's image: 
Scarce could I tell who of the twain had life, 
Or who had ceas'd to breathe. Pardon me, father, 
Long-time I fear'd to break that solemn trance, 
And when at last I rous'd him, 

Con. [interrupting him.'] 'Twas not kind 
To rouse him, brother. Well I know his nature, 
You should have spar'd him yet a little while, 
'Tis long since holy peace has still'd his spirit : 
That time his soul had converse with its maker. 

Pro. But when at last you urg'd him — 

Sac. At the word 

At bnce the trance dissolv'd — he started up, 
And frowning darkly on me, bad me say 
That never earthly ear should hear his grief, 
If thou reject his pray'r, to wear out life 
Here, amid perilous labours— thus he left me, 
And onward 'mid the mountains swiftly rush'd, 
Regardless of my answer. 

Prior. Holy father ! 

Send forth the Confessor : with him alone 
He communes willingly : but shuns us ever, 
Save when a sufferer common aid demands. 

Con. Yes, I have sooth'd his melancholy soul, 
And won at times to half-form'd confidence, 
By tales of woe which breath'd to tranquil minds 
Had rack'd the soul with horror : still to these 
He gives most heedful ear. 

Pro. Go, sooth, persuade him. 

[ To the Confessor, who departs. 



THE CONFESSION 241 

It must be Grange unexpiated guilt 

Harrows his soul : and was it right, good Prior, 

To give him charge among you ? 

Prior. He deserv'd it. 

Such thoughts as trouble you, at first came o'er us, 
When with wan look distraught, and wild attire, 
He call'd at midnight, when no foot beside 
Long time had scal'd the snows. Our wary eye 
Wutch'd o'er him. Stern his brow, and strange his 

mood, 
Yet at cur call most zealous : so months past, 
He still the same. When patient Anselm died, 
(Heav'n rest his soul ! he fell in manhood's pxime, 
Worn out with toil) Alfonso, now long-tried, 
Here vow'd to pass his dedicated days 
A cloistered menial, and with earnest pray'r 
Besought his perilous office. Look on us : 
Age and infirmity here bow before } r ou. 
Point out the man whose limbs could stand that 
charge. 

Pro. None — none ; I blame you not. But say, 
good Prior, 
How doth he exercise his charge ? 

Prior. With zeal 

Passing belief. His labour shames our service : 
For st.ll in boist'rous months, when all within 
Shake at the tempest's roar, and icy blast, 
Singly he ventures forth, his dog sole guide, 
At starless midnight, or when drifted heaps 
Have hid the pass : nor seeks again the roof, 
(Tho* numbness steal on his overwearied limbs) 

R 



242 THE CONFESSION. 

Till he has sounded each snow-cover'd cave^ 
And long and loudly call'd, if heard from far 
Shrieks of the lost night-wanderer strike his ear. 
So pass his days away. 

Claude enters. 

Oh holy fathers ! 

Pro. Claude, what brings thee hither ? 

Claude. Help, speedy help ! or she for whom I 
beg 
Will not long need your succour, [to the Infirmier.] 

Good, good father. 
This is thy office. Yes, we know thee well, 
We who frequent these mountains. 

Pro. Take thy cordials ; 

Rare medicines : and this strongly scented oil. 
Its essence once inhaled, thro' closed lips 
Will call the spirit back ! 

Inf. Where are the sufferers ? 

And what their numbers? 

Claude. 'Tis but one poor soul, — 

A delicate tender creature : one of those 
That left at noon your roof. She would away : 
Though at that time, methought, a deadly paleness 
Was settled in her face. — Oh how it griev'd me ! 

Inf. But where, where are they ? 

Claude. They had past the storm-house 

Where, every day, at noon, and fall of night, 
Ye kindly leave, for those who chance may need, 
A dole of bread and wine : this, tjiey had past 



THE CONFESSION. 243 

A little space, when they who bore the litter 

In which she lay, slipp'd on the melted ice : 

And much I fear the fall has quite o'erpow'r'd her. 

I never thought that thing of such slight frame 

Could heave so deep a groan. And so I help'd them 

To bear her to the shed, then hurried hither 

To claim your aid. 

Inf. Come, honest Claude. — Fare- 

well ! [to the Monks.'] 

Pro. Heav'n guide, and prosperous issue crown 
your labour ! 
Say, was she of that train whom late I greeted 
Where rushing from the mountain snows, the ftood 
Ceaselessly roars ? 

Prior. No other foot but theirs 

Has dared the pass. 

Pro. In vain I urg'd them back. 

Know you their names ? 

Pri. They wish'd to be conceal'd. 

Some secret cause of grief ('twas whisper'd so) 
Unmeet to be divulg'd to common ears, 
Silenc'd enquiry. Yet a prattling page 
Who loiter'd o'er the hearth, said that his lady, 
The dark-stol'd dame, was Countess of Tortona: 
And lie did hint of a poor peasant girl 
Tales of strange import — -but we sought not out 
What misery wish'd conceal'd. 

Pro. The noen-bell strikes. 
Come, holy duties call our thoughts to heav'n — - 
Here meet again. Alfonso must be question'd. 

[Exeunt. 



244 THE CONFESSION. 



Scene changes to the Storm-house, on one side of the 
rocky pass, amid the Mountains 

Agnes, Ellen in a litter sleeping, Attendants, 
Blanche and Laura. 

Agnes. So — gently bring her to the open air. 
A soothing sleep steals o'er her : soft she breathes. 
How sweet her tranquil look ! and lo, that smile : 
As if an angel touch'd with earthly woe 
Look'd down upon her slumber. 

Blan. Such art thou 

In mortal semblance. 

Agnes, [looking on her.'] Sleep, poor hapless Ellen! 
Three painful years are pass'd, since I have watch'd 

thee, 
And laid thy stranger brow upon my breast. 
I have assuag'd thy bitterness of grief, 
Sooth'd the wild dreams of a distracted mind, 
And led thee to the view of opening heav'n., 
Where tears are turn'd to gladness : but such sleep 
Till now has ne'er been thine. 

Francis enters. 

Francis ! Oh say, 
Will they proceed ? 

Fran. No golden bribe will tempt 

I have explored the further tract. 

Agnes. Well, Francis I 



THE CONFESSION. 245 

Fran, It is impassable. 

Agnes. Oh say not so. 

I will myself explore it. 

Fran. None can pass. 

The rock more rugged far : and that bright sun 
Which cheer'd at dawn of day, its noon now past, 
Has turn'd to foaming streams the melted snow. 

Agnes. Yet, if the convent send sufficient aid, 
Still, still we may proceed. 

Fran. E're I turn'd back 

Reluctantly, (I know thy stedfast mind,) 
Prone from a crag that overhung the road 
A snow mount thundei'd down, and barr'd all 

progress. 
Some from the convent soon will join our guides, 
And warrant safe return ; and, pardon lady ! 
I have long serv'd you. 

Agnes. Say whate'er thou wilt. 

Thy lord esteem'd thee highly. 

Fran. Aye, these arms 

Oft fondled him in childhood. 

Agnes. By his side 

Thou hast in battle stood, when many a warrior 
Fled from the field. The man whom Julian honor'd 
I hold my friend. Say on, nor fear offence. 

Fran. Would I had died in battle at his feet, 
E're liv'd till now : e're seen what now I see, 
The Countess of Tortona like a slave, 
Tending a peasant girl : one too, who lur'd, 
Aye, and by witching wiles ; — 

Agnes: [interrupting him.~\ No, not thy virtues, 



246 THE CONFESSION. 

Nor privilege of years, nor length of service. 
Zeal for my house and honour shall avail, 
If ere thy rash unhallow'd breath shall whisper 
Disgrace on her. Rather aloud revile 
The memory of him whom most I honour ; 
The man, who but for this, had proudly stood 
'Mid men unrivall'd : if thou de%m it base 
To serve my will because I sooth her woe, 
Such service I disclaim — gold thou sbalt have, 
But never look to see my face again. 
TI?ou art in tears : nay, rise. 

Fran. Not look on me ! 

And give me gold ! I am indeed most vile. 
I never felt what service was till now. 
If you do wish my death, bid me begone. 
I rashly spoke what zeal for you inspir'd. 
She was not the seducer. 

Agnes, Peace, good Francis ! 

You touch a string that vibrates on my heart. 
Still calm her sleep ? [To the Attendants. 

Man. Most tranquil. 

Agnes. Such repose 

I fear bodes nought but evil. From the convent 
None yet arrive. 'Tis vain without their aid 
To move her hence. 

Fran. They will be here, ere long. 

The guide, whose ready zeal so won our hearts, 
Was fresh, and nimble footed. 

Agnes. Go, my friend ! 

Yon height commands afar the winding path : 
Look, if you see aught hastening. [He goes. 



THE CONFESSION. 2\1 

Julian ! Julian ! 
Thy word enjoin'd not this : but not till death 
Has still'd that woe- worn frame, will I forsake her. 
But thou ! 

Oh art thou with the living ! or with those 
That grieve no more ? what earthly voice can speak ! 
Since that dread 3iour (oh ! let me not recal it !) 
My search how vain ! and save that fatal scroll 
Which bad me raise thy tomb, and deem thee dead, 
Gave me thy worldly wealth, and loos'd the tie 
That binds eternally my soul to thine, 
Of thee I nought have heard. Wert thou on earth, 
This now had been thy office. No. I wrong thee. 
He who sustains my soul, and bids me, here, 
Shelter in life's last agonies the orphan. 
And her that has no helper, had once more 
Made one our wedded hearts. 

Francis, the Infirmier, Claude, Guide, Laymen, 
enter, 

Fran, [to the Infirmier.'] Haste ! holy father. 
Inf. Where is the sufferer ? 

Agnes. Here, in still repose. 

Inf. Has she long slumbered thus ? 
Agnes. An hour, or more. 

Inf. Rouse, rouse her quickly. Chafe her temples, 
lady ! 
Here, hold this pungent spirit. [Ellen sighs. 

Agnes. Oh that sigh ! 

Inf. You of the southern climes, you haply know 
not, 



248 THE CONFESSION. 

Amid these chilling snows when sleep steals on, 
How fatally it ends ! the blood too rests., 
And every vital part forgets its function. 
Sleep here is but the harbinger of death. 

Agnes. The harbinger of death ! oh rouse her not : 
Sir, she is broken-hearted. 

Inf. I must do 

What duty bids, and with unwearied zeal 
Apply all earthly means to bring back life. 
Tiie rest is Reav'n's. 

Agnes, [to the Servants ] She wakes — stand, stand 
apart ! 
How is it with you, Ellen ? 

Ellen. Well — quite well- — 

Free from all pain. 

Agnes. Your cheek, methinks, is ting'd 

With a faint flush like renovated health, 
But weak, most weak your voice. Why do you gaze 
So earnestly around ? these are your friends, 
Those of my household whom you ever lov'd, 
Blanche, and kind-hearted Laura : this good man, 
One of the convent brethren. 

Ellen. I scarce knew 

Whether I liv'd or not. I've been in heav'n : 
You too were there : indeed I ever thought you 
Too good for this vile world. 

Agnes. Compose thyself. 

Ellen. I am most calm. 
Agnes. Oh hush. 

Ellen. I am not wandering. 

But most distinctly as I now behold you, . 



THE CONFESSION. 249 

I saw you there, [pointing up ] And I, poor Ellen, 

help'd 
To place a crown of glory on your brow. 
And there came one — [ dare not. Saint on earth ! 
Before your honour'd presence breathe his name. 
He, in this world, has had his doom of woe. 
Oh say that you forgive me — ne'er, till now, 
While my poor mind was mine — 

Inf. - This must not be. 

Daughter ! be still ! speak to her, tender lady ! 
Speak, if thy gushing tears permit the utterance. 

Agnes. Sweet Ellen ! clasp my hand. 

Ellen. Thou more than parent ! 

Had not thine e>e met mine, when first i woke, 
I had not thank'd this charitable man 
For forcing life upon me. Oh ! I faint. 

Agnes. Here, on my bosom rest. 

Ellen. Thou art most kind. 

Yes, I shall soon have rest : eternal rest, 
And thou thy heavenly crown. [Swoons. 

Inf. Here — bear her up. 

Agnes. Oh gently with her. 

Inf. Good St. Bernard, aid us ! [Exeunt. 



250 THE CONFESSION. 



Scenes a Lake on the South side of the Convent 
surrounded with Mountains covered with snow. 
Alfonso pacing restlessly to and fro. 

Alfonso. 

Alf. Ye mountains ! on whose heights when first 
ye tow'r'd, 
Coeval winter stood ! hoar cliffs ! where Time 
From the first stretch and waving of his wing, 
Shed everlasting snows ! oh hear my voice, 
Fall on my brow ! and thou, on which I tread, 
Immoveable rock ! rive thy deep base beneath me, 
Nor give me back, till at th' appointed hour 
I, and each secret sinner upon earth 
Stand up, and hear the doom that shall not change. 
It will not be conceal'd ! they shall hear all : 
Or I once more on that loath 'd world beneath, 
Must stand all lonely 'mid the moving press 
Like one, on whom the blue plague, as it past, 
Shed visible taint. 

Confessor without. Alfonso ! 

Alf. Ha ! 

Confessor enters. 

Con. Alfonso — 

'Tis he. I long have sought thee — louldly call'd— 
And thrice the convent bell has warn'd thee back. 

Alf. It 'scap'd me not unheard. 

Conf The Provost sent me — 



THE CONFESSION. 251 

Alf. Consents he to my wishes ? 

Con. Trust his kindness. 

Alf. He comes to search my soul. 

Con. Not your's alone. 

Each layman, every hind that serves the convent, 
Have render'd strict account. 

Alf. Pure sinless souls ! 

Why wound their spirit with unfounded questions? 
They have not shed man's blood. 

Con. 'Tis true, they urg'd th'enquiry. 

Alf. And ere now 

Each to his day-task hies with lighten'd heart, 
Merrily trolling forth his mountain song : 
Each with the good man's blessing on his head. 

Con. So shall thy soul find peace. 

Alf. Oh never — never. 

Con Thou dost not know his kindness, but thy 
deeds 
Are known to him — 

Alf. [troubled.'] What deeds ? 

Con. All, all, whate'er 

Z< a! and unwearied toil, and dauntless courage 
Have wrought at life's dread risque. 

Alf Would I had perish'd 

In rescuing others ! 

Con. Why thus dread the Provost ? 

To him reveal thy grief: 
He is not, as some are who wear our garb, 
Of soul austere. Virtue in him beams forth 
With seraph mercy : and his way of life 
'Mid scenes of misery, but in closer bonds 



252 THE CONFESSION. 

Links him with those that suffer. And hoar age, 
That draws his spirit nearer to his God, 
Looks kindly back on those who toil below. 
If thou hast sinn'dj in him the penitent sinner 
Beholds a father — ■ 

Alf. But I have »ot shed 

The tear of penitence. Who probes my sou!., 
Must loath the thing I am. I shall pour forth 
To his astonished and incredulous ear, 
Guilt that shall shock his soul, while tears gush 

forth 
In pity of man's weakness. 

Con. Calm thy spirit— 

Alf. [highly agitated.'] These rocks have heard 
it ; and the night-storm borne 
On his dark wing, 'mid cliffs, and hollow caves 
My echoed groans ; and I have quak'd to hear, 
Sounds as of men, accomplices in guilt, 
Muttering their tales of murder. 

Con. Sooth him, Heav'n ! 

Be calm, Alfonso ; these wild bursts of passion 
Will but arouse suspicion. — Why thus grasp me? 

Alf. Suspicion ! Who beheld me? Where th' ac- 
cuser ? 
Come to the Provost. 

Con. Not till thou art calm. 

None shall behold thee thus, so strangely mov'd. 
I oft have still'd thy grief. 

Alf. Thou art most kind. 

Con. Look round ; this scene shall sooth thee : 
Long years may pass, ere in these storm tost heights. 



THE CONFESSION. 253 

A sky so clear, air of such temperate breath, 
And sun with scarce a cloud to veil his glory 
May visit us again. 

Alf. Oh holy comforter ! 

Scenes such as these have rais'd my voice in pray'r, 
'Mid solitudes where none on earth could hear. 
Oil that the innocent joys of days long past 
Might steal me from myself, like lenient dreams 
Of friends that are no more. 

Con. Nay, inly brood not. 

Look on yon azure sky, and call on Heav'n. — 
Oh hang not o'er that lake which stilly sleeps : 
Its hue is dark and dreary : tho' it spread 
A polished mirror to the rocks around. 
Why dost thou gaze so fixedly upon it ? 

Alf Look where the shape of yon o'erhanging crag 
That thwarts the sun A lies shadow'd on the lake, 
How suddenly th' gathering ice shoots on, 
Chilling the wave beneath. 
E'en so it fares with me — the winter, here, 

[Striking his breast. 
Turns every object that the eye doth glance on, 
To its own cheerless nature. 
[Starts bach from the lake in the utmost agitation.'] 

Heav'n and earth ! 
Saw, saw you it ? 

Con. Whence that wild look of horror ? 

Why start away ? 

Alf [looking round.'] Where did the spectre 
vanish ? 

Con, What spectre ? I beheld none. 



254 THE CONFESSION. 

Alf That— that form 

Which scowl 'd upon me, there— [pointing to the 

lake.] not earthly, sure ? 
Oh never jet did flesh and blood assume 
Such ghastly semblance : never living eye 
So look'd. 

Con. Oh merciful Heav'n ! 

Alf. I do conjure you, 

Oh tell me — am I then that ghastly form ? 
Was it myself ? was there none other here ? 

Con. It was thy shadow'd form. 

Alf [vehemently ] Come to the Provost. 

What need of vain confession ? guilt is on me : 
Deep graven by the visible hand of heav'n, 
Like his that bore upon his brow the blood 
Of the first slain. Come to the Provost, haste ! 

[Exeunt, 



END OF ACT THE SECOND. 



THE CONFESSION. 255 

ACT III. SCENE I. 

The Hall of the Convent. Monks in Council. 
Provost, Prior, Infirmier, Steward. 

Prior. I hear their steps, 

Alf. [without.'] That, that, or nought on earth 
Shall force it force me — 

Prior. Hark ! it is his voice. 

We pray thee, kindly question him. 

Alfonso and Confessor enter. 

Pro. Alfonso, 

I come not arm'd with harsh authority 
To wound th'afflicted soul : not mine the office 
From the reluctant bosom, ere the time, 
To pluck th' unripe confession : rather mine 
To praise thy deeds, and here, before the brethren 
Proclaim thy high desert. 

Alf. It is the motive 

Alone that sanctions all. I claim no praise. 

Pro. Bow not beneath despair. Whate'e, thy 
crime, 
Know that, unceasing at the gates of mercy, 
A beckoning spirit calls aloud to earth, 
<f Thou, who hast sinn'd, repent, and sin no more : 
'* Kneel here, and enter in." 



256 THE CONFESSION. 

Alf. Yesj I have sinn'd — 

Pro. So have we all. 

Alf. But mine are deadly sins. 

Pro. Great is heaven's mercy; and our holy 
church 
Has pray'rs and pennances of pow'r to cleanse. 
The soul from ail pollution, 
N Mf Not from mine. 

Penance to me ! who ; watchful of the sounds 
Heard the night tempest call, and walk'd abroad 
When nought but heaven's avenging ministers 
The lightning and wicg'd whirlwind mov'd on 

earth ! 
Talk not to me of pennance. 

Pro. Art thou one 

Who once knew better day : one, whom fair fortune 
Allur'd to summer seas, then left at once 
A lonely wreck ? 

Alf. I have known better days. 

No other terms shall force the secret from me. 

\_to himself. 

Pro. Discourse not with thyself; to me give 
answer. 
Hast thou by stern necessity compell'd. 
To deeds against thy nature, iink'd with men 
Of lawless life., and stam'd thy soul with blood, 
To silence the accuser ? 

Prior. Holy Provost ! 

We we will answer this ; no stain of blood 
Rests on Alfonso. 

Alf. Answer 'st thou for me ? 



THE CONFESSION. 257 

Ye know me not, nor e'er shall hear my crime, 
Till thou hast promis'd, nay by oath confirm'd, 
That whatsoe'er the guilt which I reveal, 
Thou will't not drive me hence. Thus far be known : 
That of such deeds as now you question me., 
Wealth gain'd by force and cool deliberate murder 
To silence the accuser, I am guiltless. 
Grant this,, or I am mute. 

Pro. Hear, man of guilt ! 

And when I speak with Heay'n's authority : 
Bow to the dust. 

Alf. Deep guilt doth weigh me down. 

But I'll not speak : nor shall ye force me hence. 
Look here : behold this scar ; no battle wound, 
Tho' I have bled in war. This impious hand 
Struck at my life : and, if ye force me hence. 
Think on his guilt, the slayer of himself ! — 
Beware ! beware ! ye know not what it is :— 
But I have fought the demon of despair, 
And sunk beneath the strife. 

Pro. Sinner, I come 

Such as thyself, the heir of frailty, 
Shackled and gall'd with man's infirmities, 
To weep with thee, to bend my knee with thine, 
Teach thee, like me, to raise thy hands in pray'r, 
And meekly shed the penitential tear 
That drops down healing. Speak to me, my son ! 
He, who conjures thee, spreads a father's arms 
To fold thee to his bosom. 

Alf. Kind, kind man ! 

Thou shalt hear all : I will obey thy voice, 



258 THE CONFESSION. 

But — oh — in pity — force me not, I pray thee. 
To that strange world below : here let me labour 
What yet remains of life : not long the term. 
Vigils and painful service soon must end me : 
Look on this wasted frame. 

Pro. Here rest in peace ! 

If peace here visit thee. 

Alf. [kneels to Mini] Thanks, gracious father ! 
Pro. Disclose thy name, thy rank, what urg'd 
thee hither, 
And what mysterious motive here enchains thee 
To such dread hazards, that the oath-bound monk 
Shrinks from the toil. 

Alf. All shall be fully told. 

Julian my name. Wealth and fair heritage 
Of lands and castled towns, amid the Peers 
Of ducal Milan, rank'd me first in pow'r : 
My palace tow'r'd on proud Tortona's brow, 
And I — its lord. 

Prior. Thou — thou, Tortona's Count! 

"Twas but this morn — 

Alf. [interrupting him] Nay— if you disbelieve, 
You'll hear strange things. ; 

Pro. [to the Prior. .] Be silent — one rash word 
May all confuse. 

Alf. About my twentieth year, 

Ten years now past ; [gradually becomes more and 
more confused.'} nay — wonder not. These 
locks 
Once dark as jet, on sudden chang'd to grey, 
That night I stabb'd myself: and, whence this cheek 



THE CONFESSION. 259 

With more than time's deep traces sadly furrow'd, 
Your haunts can witness. At mv twentieth year — 
Till then, each wish indulged, that Fancy form 'd. 
Oh had I, ere that time, by HeavVs kind chastening, 
But tasted at the brim, but sipp'd one drop 
Of that sad cup who-e bitter dregs I drain, 
Haply I had not been the man I am ! 
Virtue had charms for me. No— no. It sprung not 
From Heav'n's eternal root: 'twas the frail fiow'r 
That gaily blosso ms in life's sunshine day. 
I pray your pardon. — 
Where left I off? 

Pro. You said your twentieth year. 

Alf. That was the time, when brave Novara's lord, 
Stricken by age, but still in heart a warrior, 
Proclaim'd a tournament : his daughter's hand 
The envied prize : if he who gain'd the field 
Made oath, when wedded, at his own free charge 
To arm five hundred knig its, all ca»'d in steel, 
In right of Sforza's heir, from Milan's throne 
Driven by ambitious France. 

Pro. We know those wars. 

Alf. I went, I won the prize ; a beauteous bride, 
One whose rare mind, high-character'd, o'erpast 
All that the eye-presag'd of inward worth. 
Ill fated Agnes ! breath'd a man on earth 
Who slightingly had nam'd thee, on his head 
My sword had thy pre-eminence maintaia'd, 
Peerless above thy sex. Yet — her I left — 
Not then — not then. Five years first glided on, 
Five peaceful years — and — happiness was — her's. 



260 THE CONFESSION. 

Then came the wars, and all the accidents 

Of doubtful conflict. With our forces march'd 

The Banneret that led the hardy Swiss : 

One for his skill in arms call'd from his flock : 

A swain, but proud of soul. 

What needs his name ? that time I sav'd his life, 

And he too rescued mine — him — him — I murder'd. 

Pro. Oh heav'n ! 
Him who had sav'd thy life ! what demon urg'd thee ? 
Alf. \liighly agitated.'] Here, here the peasant 
smote me. The wide world 
Has rung with my disgrace — a soldier's blood 
Boils in these veins : but seek not out the cause. 
He should have plung'd his dagger in my heart, 
As mine was sheatli'd in his : deep in the heart. 
That had been noble vengeance — but — a blow ! 
Pro. Vengeance ! for what ? 
Alf. His sister — oh ! his sister ! 

Oh, miserable Ellen ! — 
Her, her I wedded. 

Pro. You said Novara's daughter was your wife* 
Alf. [much agitated.'] Yet, yet I wedded Ellen — 
didst thou think 
One of such purity, not angels purer, 
Had deign d to meet my love, save that she deem'd 
A husband's rightful arms were linkt in hers. 
Pro. But where is Ellen ? 
Alf. Ha! 

* Pro. Tortona's Countess 

Erewhile — 

Alf {half frantic] Where, where is Ellen ? 



THE CONFESSION. 261 

Would that I saw that angel stretch 'd before me 
In any form of death : her pale cheek cold ; 
And the mild languor of her azure eye 
Fixt as I gaz'd upon it! would to heav'n 
That on your barbarous rocks I found her corse, 
Transfixt with lightening ! so she were but dead. 
Then, ere th' avenger call'd, I should once more 
Know what it is to weep. Oh ! Ellen, Ellen ! 

[He weeps. 
Pro. His tears gush forth. May it relieve his 

anguish ! 
Prior. Oh ! cease to torture him. 
Pro. He looks more calm. 

Each tear, that trickles down his cheek, allays 
His troubled spirit. 

Alf. Yet— a little while, 

Kind men ! I will be brief — ye must not leave me, 
It weighs less heavy here. 

Pro. Another time ! 

Alf. Heav'n may not grant again an hour like this. 
In the last battle at NoTara's siege, 
When Tremouille and Trevulci led the foe, 
And, from their steeds dismounted, Gaul's brave 

knights 
Stood with portended spears, in firm array 
Immoveable. When fear had seiz'd our host, 
The Banneret and I, in arms sworn brothers, 
Rush'd emulous on, and in our breasts receiv'd 
Th' opposing points. Our men, the opening made, 
Follow'd and conquer'd. As we bleeding lay, 
" Be thou, (he said) a brother to an orphan, 



262 THE CONFESSION. 

" Who has but me," I vow'd and swoon'd upon him. 
When next I woke, 'twas in Novara's walls : 
Of him no more was known. 

Pro. You said jou slew him. 

Alf. You shall hear all. 
The Duke restor'd, when war had ceas'd to rage. 
My name and rank disguis'd, I went as one 
Dear to her brother : and within a dell, 
Lock'd in by heights which scarce the neighb'ring 

swain 
Cross'd with his flock at summer, found the orphan. 
Oh ! at the sight of her, the pea ant girl, 
My soul at once discover 'd why I sigh'd, 
Clasp'd in Novara's arms. Spare the recital. 
I wooed, 1 won, and wedded her. 

Pro. How ! wedded ! 

Alf. I wedded Ellen, aye, and time flew by 
In bliss not earthly, while remembrance slept : 
But when the fiend was rous'd, fang'd scorpions 

sung me. 
At times, false cause pretended, I withdrew, 
Short absence, to Tortona : there the smile 
r i hat ever met me, 

Anu'd with new sting the viper at my heart. 
1 had less keenly suffer'd, had reproof 
Scowl 'd at my entrance : it was never so. 
But oh! the curse ! while Agnes clasp'd my neck 
My thought was of another ! on a day, 
When annual feast and revels rous'd Tortona, 
In honour of our nuptials ; as the pomp 
Mov'd on, the Countess radiant at my side, 



THE CONFESSION. 263 

Forth rush'd the Banneret ; yet, yet,, I hear him. 
te Traitor ! receive from him who sav'd thy life 
" Fit meed for guilt like thine :" he spoke and 

struck me. 
Struck me, Novara's daughter by my side. 
Then my swift steel — 

Pro. I thought — 

Alf. [interrupting him.'] 'Twas there he fell, 
But died in Ellen's arms : and his last breath 
Bound her to break the tie that link'd her soul 
To perjury and murder. I return'd : 
At sight of me,, for still our hearts were one. 
Her woe to frenzy rose. That time this hand 
Aim'd at my life : heav'n wiil'd not so my death : 
Tho' rumour widely spread it. 

Pro. At our hearth 

We too have heard, confusedly told, thy death : 
And the hous'd pilgrim still describes the tomb 
Rais'd by thy Countess ; where each day and night, 
All hours, unwearied orisons call down 
Heav'n's mercy on thy soul. 

Alf. The loud report 

Had struck on Ellen's ear : for now she knew 
Her base seducer. 

Pro. How ! 

Alf. The Banneret 

(Escap'd from chains,) returning to his home, 
Found on her neck my picture ; but no voice 
Ere told, till now, that I, Tortona's lord, 
Garb'd like a peasant of the northern Alps, 
Watch'd at craz'd Ellen's side, where'er she stray 'd. 



264 THE CONFESSION. 

Begg'd from poor hinds., and forc'd, where pray'rs 

avail 'd not, 
The scanty meal that fed her. None e'er told 
That oft, to sooth her woe, o'er unknown rocks 
I toiTd, and smooth'd her way to Milan's -vale : 
And clasp 'd her in these arms when on my tomb 
She sunk in tearless swoon. 'Twas never known 
When months had thus gone fey, and lenient time 
Had still'd her groans : that while with heav'n- 

rais'd eye, 
She breath 'd my name, and kiss'd my pictur'd sem- 
blance, 
That I forgetful, gaz'd too fondly on her, 
And all the truth flash'd forth. 
Pro. I dread th' event. 

Alf. She started from my arms, while tears, 
methought, 
Gush'd down her glowing cheek. 
Then turning suddenly to one I saw not, 
" Be thou obey'd ! (she cried) and, thus address'd 

me. 
ee Kneel on this tomb, and swear by him in heav'n, 
ec Thou ne'er wilt trace my wanderings, ne'er en- 

" quire 
f ' If weal or woe betide : ne'er look on Ellen 
" Till dead, or dying— swear, that so my blessing 
" May rest on thee hereafter." I obey'd, 
Nor ever saw her more. Where is she now ? 
Is the deep slumber of the dead upon her? [frantic.'] 
Weeps she, or raves, lone, reft of every friend ? 
Hark ! hark ! on me she calls — I come. 



THE CONFESSION. 265 

Pro. Restrain him. 

Oh hold his struggling limbs. Soothe, soothe him 

heav'n ! 
Jlf. [after violently struggling, breaksfrom them.'] 
Ye shall not hold me here, unseen of men : 
No, I will stalk commissioned o'er the world 
Like Heav'n's enquiring spirit. Gu^it shall shake 
At my approach, and youth turn grey before me. 
Look, when I view the boy in lustihood 
Of health and beauty, as he reels along 
To the deluded virgin, in his grasp 
I will infix this dagger. At my bidding 1 
The breast, that glow'd beneath his touch, shall 

bleed. 
She too, shall deem the blow. Oh! Ellen ! answer. — 
Far kinder than the kiss that iir'd her soul. 
There end her woes : and while she rests in peace 
His eye may look on heav'n : mine never more-. 

[hursts away. 
Pro. Haste, haste ! restrain him ! bring him back, 

my brothers ! 



END OF ACT THE THIRD. 



266 THE CONFESSION. 



ACT IV. SCENE I. 

A Cave amidst the Mountains. 

Two Assassins disguised like the native Mountaineers. 

1 Assas. The time is past : they promis'd quick 

return. 
Thi> sieel Lcks blood. 

2 Assas. Our booty shall not fail. Be patient, 

brother. 

1 Assas. Why did you lure us from the southern 

plains ? 
There still, if plunder fail'd, earth's grassy bed 
Ref/esh'd our weary limbs, and the blue sky 
Look'd kindly on our slumber. Here — 

2 Assas. Be patient — 
Our long expected prize, Tortona's wealth, 

Ere long shall far o'erpay these transient toils. 

1 Assas. Aye, if we seize the Countess. 

2 Assas. If we seize her ! 
How can she 'scape ? 

1 Assas. The pass below is open, 
Secure from danger, by the Provost's guides 
Clear 'd from the snows. 

2 Assas. No, not if trusty Gualter 
Has faithfully obey'd me. 



THE CONFESSION. 267 



Gualter and a Third Assassin enter. 

1 Assas. See,, he comes. 

2 Assas. Well, Gua<t?r ! 

GuaJ. All is done : prepare your poniards. 

Yet — 'tis an easy prey. One man in arms 
Alone attends the dame. When I had irack'd 
The Provost to the convent, I re turn'd 
O'er pathless crags, and from the mountain peak 
That beetled o'er the pass, with this good pole 
Loosen'd the snow-mass. None can pass. 

1 Assas. Away. 

Stab those that dare resist: but spare the Countess: 
Her ransom shall enrich us. 

Gual. Lead us forth ! [Exeunt. 



Scene, Mountains cover' d with Snozv, overhanging 
the Pass, on the North Side of the Convent. 
Alfonso climbing over the Rocks. 

Alfonso. 

Alf. What ! force me back ! 
Roof me in cloystei'd cells, where never sun 
Glanc'd on the face of man ! must they explore 
Winch way I tread : and track me t<> my n aunts, 
Like some ferocious beast that makes ins lair 
In the unfiequenkd wilderness ! what am 1 ? 
A wretch, moon-stricken, to be watch'd aud bound: 
Unfit to bide where man makes resilience ? 



268 THE CONFESSION. 

Would that I were not, what indeed I am ! 

Or being what I am, in form a man. 

That heav'n had cast me in the ideot mould, 

Of those that in the valley gasp in the sun, 

With disproportion^ throats : and uncouth limbs, 

That know not their own use. 

Con. [behind the scenes.] Alfonso ! ho ! 

Alf. Shout on ! shout on ! here none will look 
to find me : 
Or if they chance to spy me, who will dare 
Climb up this giddy edge ? they nigh had seiz'd me, 
But for that jutting point on which I sprung, 
While they past on beneath. 

Sacristan and Confessor enter. 

Sac. See you the track 

Of his uncertain step amid the snow ? 

Con. It ceas'd on sudden. 

Sac. Long my eye pursu'd it, 

In mazy shiftings all irregular. 

Con. Aye, purposely confus'd to mock pursuit. 
He's fled, I fear, for ever. 

Alf. [wildly laughing.] Ha ! ha ! ha 1 

Sac. Heard you that noise ? 

Con, Sure from the air it burst : 

For never foot of man 
E'er scal'd these mountains. 

Sac. Let us once more hail him. 

Alfonso ! ho — Alfonso ! 

[Clashing of swords heard behind the scenes. 



THE CONFESSION. 269 

Agnes, [behind the scenes.] Murder — Help — 

Murder. 
Fran, {behind the scenes] This good sword shall 

free you. 
Agnes, {behind the scenes ] Help from the convent, 

help. 
Sac. What cry was that ? 

Con. I heard the cry of murder. 

Hark ! 'tis the clash of swords. 

Francis and the Infirmier enter, 

[to Francis. Speak — wherefore thus. 
Thy looks stare wildly — there is blood upon thee. 
Fran, [to the Infirmier, .] Your limbs are fresh, 
back to the convent, haste. 
Ring out tli' alarum bell, [Infirmier goes.'] Three 

men,, assassins, 
Disguis'd like those that on the mountains urge 
The chamois chase, have seiz'd the hapless ladies. 
I battled, long as these sore-mangled limbs 
Could stand their poniards. 

Alf. [leaping from the rock, and snatching his 
sword.'] See ! th' avenger here I 

Wash off, kind heav'n ! the murder on this blade, 
By the assassin's blood. Come, lead the way. 
I have in battle cop'd with mighty men, 
And foil'd proud warriors. 

Fran. Give me, Sir, your arm. 

My wounds bleed fast [Exeunt. 



270 THE CONFESSION. 

Scene, another part of the Mountains. 
Agnes, Countess of Tortona, Ellen, Assassins. 

Agnes. If 'tis my wealth you seek, I gave you all. 
Assas. Dame, if your strength had match'd your 
fearless mind, 
Your wealth had ne'er eniich'd us. 

Agnes, [to the other Assassins going to bind Ellen.} 

Bind her not : 
She scarce has pow'r to lift her hands in pray'r. 
Assas. To her, to her she points 
Ellen. Oh wound her not. 

Here, here, good men, these stones, they say, are 

diamonds : 
This had escap'd you — take it — spare her life. 
'Twas once a nuptial present — so — farewell. 

[Kissing the picture, which she gives the Assassin. 
I fondly thought to have worn thee in the grave. 
Spare but her life, and I shall die content. 

[Szvoons away. 
Agnes. Hear me, unhappy men ! and mark my 
words. 
I am Tortona's Countess, and I come 
To bear this sufferer, more than daughter to me, 
To the lone vale below that gave her birth. 
Let me pass on, and this last duty pay, 
And, by yon lieav'n ! I vow, 

[Gives a ring to one of the Assassins. 
Whene'er you show this ring, I will redeem it 



THE CONFESSION. 271 

With riches, that shall free your future days 
From deeds of guilt. 

Assas. [looking upon Ellen.'] Her pulse is still- 
it beats not. 
Assas. Let not this corse betray us. Plunge it, 
there, 
Within yon snow-pit. 

Assas. Aye. I'll safely tomb her. 

Give me the corse. 

[One of the Assassins bears Ellen off. 
Agnes. Oh stay ! she is not dead. 

Restore her to my arms, I will repay you 
With wealth, a monarch's ransom. 

Assas. Those will free 

Thyself, or thou shalt join her. 

Agnes. Ye shall banquet 

In golden halls, and o'er your tombs I'll raise 
Convents, where holy men by force of pray'r, 
Shall save your souls from fiends. 

Assas. You promise rarely, 

Alfonso [behind the scenes.] Die wretch. Go — • 

bear her to the convent. 
Agnes. Heav'n ! 

I hear the voice of succour. Man ! unhand me. 

[Struggling with them. 
Assas. [going to stab her.] Nay — if you struggle, 
lady ! you are dead. 



212 THE CONFESSION. 

Alfonso rushes in, stabs one of the Assassins, in 
struggling with the other, who flies, he is himself 
wounded. 

Alf. This to thy heart— fly, murderer— -thou art 
free. [to Agnes. 

Agnes. Oh what words 
Can rightly praise, what earthly gifts reward thee ? 
Thus, on thy hand, the Countess of Tortona 
Prints the warm kiss of gratitude. 

Alf. [falls prostrate. ] Oh— oh. 

Agnes. Whence that deep groan ? the assassin's 
steel has pierc'd him. 

Alf. [looking up.'] Not that— I felt it not. Strike 
—strike me dead. 

Agnes. What — for this deed ? Let it not grieve 
thy soul — 
Long ages past, a voice from heav'n decreed, 
"Who spills man's blood, by man his blood be spilt/' 
W r hy art thou silent ? Speak. 

Alf. But— but forgive me, 

Agnes. In what hast thou offended ? 

Alf [to himself.'] I must speak. 

The threaten 'd torments of the world to come, 
W here sinners meet their doom, are center 'd here. 

Agnes. In what hast thou offended ? 

Alf. I have left 

The path where Virtue led me : I have strown 
In the smooth vale of innocence and peace, 
Rank baleful seed : and I have pluck'd its fruit 



THE CONFESSION. 273 

That leaves a scar and blister on the soul, 
When all of earth sinks to its native dust. 
You know me now. Away — 

Agnes. I know none such. 

Alf But you do know my voice. 

Agnes. Lift up thy cowl : 

Thy features may instruct me. 

Alf. Ask not that. 

You'll turn away in horror. 

Agnes. If thy guilt 

Aught touches me, this act of rescu'd life 
Obliterates all trace of past offence. 
Lift up thy cowl. [He lifts it up reluctantly. 

Oh Heav'ns !— I know thee not. 
Nay — go not hence. 

Alf. I would not shock thy soul — 

[To himself. .] I will not see her more. But — oh — 

her pardon ! 
I am (but do not gaze on me) I was, 
In happier years, when Virtue led my steps, 
Thy husband — 

Agnes, [she recollects him, and screams,] Thou — 
my husband ! Julian ! Julian ! 
And yet — I knew thee not. Thou shalt not leave me. 
My arms shall hold thee. Thou art more than 

pardon'd, 
Husband ! 

Alf. Oh sound once grateful to my soul. 
But do not stain thy unpolluted lip. 
Look, look not so. 



274 THE CONFESSION. 

Agnes. I cannot view on earth 

One so belov'd. 

Alf. Not with that eye of kindness. 

I cannot look on thee : oh, if thine eye 
Flashed vengeful light'ning, I'd not turn away. 
Thou shalt not hold me more. 

Agnes. Am I so hateful ? 

Alf. Next Heav'n, I honour thee, but ne'er shall 
saints 
Stoop to a fiend's embrace. Why should'st thou 

weep ? 
I cannot shed a tear. 

Agnes. i \ embracing him.~\ Weep in these arms : 
And as I clasp thee to my heart, recall 
Past years of bliss, and pray'rs once heard in Heav'n, 
That in each other's arms, blessing and blest, 
Our life at once might close, and one the tomb 
Rais'd o'er us, join'd in death. Husband ! sore woe 
Has chas'd away the vision of delight, 
That o'er the innocence of untried youth 
DifFus'd th' enchanted day-dream : it hath pleas'd 
The searcher of the heart, by misery's test, 
To prove my soul, and, here, 'mid lonely wilds 
Where none but Heav'n can witness, I invoke 
His ministering host, again to grave the vow 
That links my lot to thine. Come, on this bosom 
Rest, and find peace once more. 

Alf. Peace! never, never. 

'Tis Virtue's heritage. 

Agnes. It shall be thine. 



THE CONFESSION. 275 

Alf. The past— the past. 

nes. Oh be it with these tears 

Eternally forgotten ! 

Alf. I have born 

Unmov'd the shock of horror, but thy kindness 
Unmans me. 

Agnes, I thought not to have known once more, 
The blessing of such tears. \He weeps, 

Agnes, Oh thou hast groan'd 

In bitterness of spirit to the storm, 
That smote thee, sweeping by on icy wings, 
And none has listen 'd to thy woe, no voice 
Spake consolation. Where, alas ! was Agnes ? 
Ah ! haply whilst thou call'd'st in anguish on 

me, 
I, far away, unconscious of thy woe, 
Pour'd unavailing sorrow on the tomb, 
That clos'd not o'er thy sufferings. Now behold me 
Thus at thy side, more blest to stand the storm, 
And sootli thy misery, than in thoughtless years, 
When the gay partner of vain joy, alone 
I glitter'd in thy sunshine. 

Alf. Heav'n reward thee ! 

Agnes. Heav'n hath rewarded me : once more we 
meet. 
Oh give me all thy grief, and I will steal 
Each pang away, and lull thee to repose. 
These aims, amid the wilderness, shall stretch 
Soft shelter o'er thee, here thy brow be pillow' d : 
And ever as thou wak'st, the eye of Agnes 
Shall gladden thine : till in the gradual peace 



276 THE CONFESSION. 

That gains upon thee., I shall taste, once more, 
All bliss that earth can give. 

Alf. [falling on her neck.'] Thus let me thank 
thee — 
No — no. [Starts back in horror.'] Guilt, guilt is 
on me. 

Agnes. None o'er earth, 
Pass without stain. 

Alf. No common guilt is mine. 

Agnes. Bow not beneath despair ! I woo thee not 
To luxury, and light pleasures, and the dream 
Of joy departed. No. But, hand in hand, 
Now let us, in affliction doubly dear, 
Right onward journeying thro' the vale of woe, 
Soothe and support each other. Once again 
Here have we met, and never, never more, 
If virtue yet have force to sway the heart, 
Shall earthly pow'r divide us. 

Alf. Oh thou know'st not — 

I cannot tell it thee. 

Agnes. I know it all. 

Oh thou art deeply wounded : drops of blood 
Stream on the snow. Come — let thy wife support 

thee — 
Lean on me, Julian. Let us to the convent. 
Oh no — not there — not there. 

Alf. Support me not. 

There was a time — let me depart, I pray thee, 
While reason yet is mine, [more and more confused.] 

'Tis not this wound. 
*Tis in my head — my heart — the fiend that tends 



THE CONFESSION. 277 

On evil deeds, is busy with my soul. 

Angel of light ! (thou art not of this earth) 

Who, from the mansions of the blest, descend'st 

On gracious errand to repentant sinners. 

Canst thou not quell this demon ? drive him hence ! 

I cannot long sustain this terrible coil ? 

Agnes. Father of mercy ! calm his troubled spirit! 
Alf. [frantic] Woman ! thou kuow'st me not. 
I know thee well — 
Thou art Novara's daughter : the fair prize. 
Gaily they came, brave gallants in their trim, 
High-plum'd, and banners floating — theproud steeds 
Caparison'd, career'd beneath thy throne. 
Thou knew'st me then, when from the vanquish'd 

field 
I bore the blushing bride — but — when he struck 

me — 
Thou looking on, upon my nuptial day^ 
When the proud peasant struck me, at thy side, 
Thou did'st forget me — hie thee to thy palace : 
But there is one : and well I warn thee, lady ! 
One of low birth — look, if she flash before thee, 
She claims me for her own. We meet no more. 
Agnes. We part not, till death parts us. 
Alf. Am I thine ? 

I know not what I speak — if I have utter'd 
Sounds grievous to thy soul, thy pardon, Agnes. 
It will not be controll'd. 

Agnes. Oh be the past 

Eternally forgotten ! mark me, Julian — 
Thy wounds require relief — recall thy mind. 



278 THE CONFESSION. 

Is there amid these wilds a sheltering roof, 
Save yonder convent ? 

Alf. None — for miles around. 

Agnes Oh go not to the convent — yet thou diest 
Here without succour — but there is a cause. 

Alf. Oh ! might I perish here ! thus at thy feet, 
Thy tears fast falling o'er me. 

Infirmier enters with other Monks. 

Inf. Haste ! oh haste. 

The hapless Ellen ! 

A^nes. Name her not — I charge thee. 

Inf Thou must attend. For thee alone she grieves. 
Her wilder'd fancy views thee pierc'd with wounds 
Beneath the murderer's blade, speak comfort to her, 
Ere her last breath in frantic horror pass. 

Alf. Ellen ! and raving — oh ! it cannot be. 
It is — it is — said'st thou not now ? I heard thee. 
I must not to the convent ? by the love 
Thou did'st profess, I do conjure thee, speak: 
Is it that hapless one ? I may once more 
Gaze on her as she dies ; and her pale lip 
May breathe forgiveness o'er me. 

Agnes. Yes — lis Ellen. 

I found her, lone, and raving on thy tomb. 
Gaze not above so wildly. 

Alf 5 Tis complete. 

The measure is complete. The wife has sooth'd her. 
What brought thee hither ? 

Agnes. Pity for her woe. 



THE CONFESSION. 279 

Nay, more— 

The word of Heav'n, that bids me not desert 
The orphan and the helpless, nor abandon 
To bitter scorn, one innocent of ill. 
Alone my presence calms her troubled spirit : 
It awes at once, and soothes her. I have hung 
O'er her distemper'd dreams, and thro' the night 
Bath'd with cool drop her lip of fire, and watch'd her, 
As one who tends a daughter — but for me, 
Dark brooding grief again had rous'd her soul 
To frantic horror : but my voice has wean'd her 
From earthly thoughts, and smooth'd her way to 

Heav'n, 
And now ere life quite ceas'd— 

Alf. How ! was she dying ? 

Thanks, gracious Heav'n ! receive her to thy rest ! 
Soon will her misery cease — but thine, [to himself] 

poor wretch ! 
Was she so near her end ? then I will see her. 
Oh, say, say what brought thee to these wilds ? 

Agnes. Be calm ! 

She wish'd once more to view her native vale., 
And there to die in peace, and nameless lie 
With those from whom she sprung. 

Alf. Alas ! poor Ellen ! 

No other wish but that ! [with fervor.'} there shalt 

thou rest. 
Where from the cradle to the grave, thy life 
One blameless day, each tranquil as the last, 
Had glided on unknown in lowly peace : 
But I drew near, and like the tempter, stole 



280 THE CONFESSION. 

On thy lone paradise— there shalt thou rest. 

[rushing off 
Restrain me not — 

Agnes. Hear— Julian— 

Inf. Stay,, rash man ! 

Thy wound bleeds fast. Alas ! you scarce have 

strength 
To reach the convent walls. 

Alf. [in wrath] Oppose me not — 

Ellen ! no murderer's blade shall scare thee more. 
Who shall delay thy passage ? low he lies 

[pointing to the Assassin, 
Who turn'd thee from thy course. I, I will place 

thee 
Beneath the sod, and in thy grave, find mine. 

[rushes out. 



END OF ACT THE FOURTH. 



THE CONFESSION. 281 

ACT V. SCENE I. 

Convent Hall. 

Provost. 

Pro Thou saint in Heav'n ! 
Thou, who did'st lead Alfonso to these rocks, 
Self-doom'd in just atonement for past guilt, 
Look down on his affliction. 

Confessor enters. 

Con. Holy father ! 

These unexampled miseries o'erpow'r me : 
Forgive these gushing tears. The hapless Julian ! 

Pro. Alas ! how fares it with him ? 

Con. As with one 

Not long to live : deep was th' assassin's blow. 
Faint with the loss of blood, long time he lay 
In death-like swoon : here human art avail'd : 
But who can heal the anguish of the soul. 
Save Heav'n that smites in mercy ! 

Pro. Say, my brother. 

Is he restor'd to reason. 
Fitly prepar'd for that eternal state 
That knows no change ? 

Con. Yes ; Heav'n has visited 

The contrite man. In Agnes' arms he woke, 



282 THE CONFESSION. 

Calm as from sleep : in fitter hour I'll tell 
Their farewell interview : 'tis graven here. 

Pro. Then grant, all-gracious Heav'n ! his sole 
request ! 
Oh may poor Ellen's last forgiveness breathe 
Peace to Jhis parting spirit. 

Con. Who shall say 

What may ensue, if ere they meet again ? 
Hence flow my tears. At Julian's earnest pray'r^ 
The virtuous Agnes hangs o'er Ellen's couch;. 
Watching the moment of returning reason, 
That, haply, ere he breathes his last, the voice 
Of pardon yet may sooth him. 

Pro. Grant it, Heav'n. 

Con I left him still'd in meek and holy- 
sadness, 
To bear that parting scene : but much I fear 
For hapless Ellen. 

Her mind may ne'er regain its peaceful mood. 
Say, holy father ! may they meet again ? 
Or will not anguish rouse their souls once more 
To frantic agony ? 

Pro. What Ellen's state ? 

Con. I cannot call it frenzy, 
And yet she is not in her perfect mind. 
'Tis no delirium, where the fever's rage 
Boils in the blood, and on the throbbing brain, 
Shapes images and scenes of spectred horror : 
"Tis the mild error of the sense confus'd, 
That plays on cheated fancy : for she seems, 
All memory of later woe effac'd, 



THE CONFESSION. 283 

Blissful as once ere bleak adversity 
Had ruffled youth's smooth current. 

Pro. Such things pass 

Man's narrow ken : Heav'n wills it. 

Con. Round her couch 

She fashions those, who sadly minister, 
To the gay partners of her innocent sports. 
Poor peasant girls, who cull in spring fresh flow'rs 
To wreath their brow, and mix the mirthful dance: 
And oft she calls Tortona's dame, who prays 
In silence o'er her, her own happy mother, 
List'ning with fond attention to the tune 
That late she taught her. Me, my mournful duties 
Have long familiar made with death-bed woe : 
And I have look'd on sinners when despair 
Scowl'd, as their eye glar'd fixedly upon me ; 
But never have I witness'd such a scene ; 
It quite o'ercomes me : life and death in one 
So strangely link'd, and all that's sweet and sad. 
Yet — haply as we commune, holy father, 
All may be chang'd, and horrid images 
Usurp the mastery. 

Pro. Let us haste : our pray'rs 

May chase the fiend that haunts the bed of death. 

[Exeunt. 



284 THE CONFESSION. 

Scene the Second, an Apartment in the Convent. 
Agnes, Ellen on a Couch, attendant Monks, fyc. 

Agnes. Hush ! rouse her not. 

Ellen, [in a delirium. ~\ So — enter in, I pray you, 
Strangers and all : it is but once a year 
We thus make holiday. Not so — not so — 
You trip it awkardly, and mar the measure. 
The pipe's not out of tune, your step lacks ear. 
Oh— I have scarcely breath at once to dance 
And teach the motion. [Ellen sinks exhausted. 

Provost and Confessor enter. 

Pro. [to Agnes. ] Is all quiet with her ? 

Agnes. No — but exhausted with the play of fancy, 
She peaceful sleeps. 

Pro. [considering her."] Quite breathless, or I err. 

Agnes. She but reposes : pray you, rouse her not. 
I dread what may ensue : a shock too sudden 
In painful horrors may unlodge her spirit. 
I have been us'd to these fantastic moods, 
Long have I watch'd her, and by tender cares 
Had smoothed her passage to eternity : 
But this sad day hath all undone. Oh peace ! 
Her eyes unclose, and bright their eager glare. 

Ellen. Hark ! 'twas the shepherd's pipe ! 
Away ! away ! haste— to the green hills fly. 
I will no longer, while the dog-star flames, 



THE CONFESSION. 285 

Doze in your sultry plains. The flat air lies 
Here, here, like lead upon me : it weighs down 
The soul's free wing. Haste, to the green hills, fly. 
How daintily the cool breeze fans my brow, 
Tangling my locks in many a mazy twine ! 
Climb o'er yon mountain's peak, that props up 

Heav'n : 
Mind not that mass of snow : so — heave it off. 

Agnes. Compose thyself : here, on my bosom rest. 

Ellen. Speak low — speak very low — only in 
whispers — 
You know not what it is. Stranger ! that mass 
Which rock-like beetles o'er you, is loose snow. 
The mule-bell must not tinkle while it passes : 
Its very echo bursts it. 

Hail, once more., 
My native land ! hail sweetest interchange 
Of all that chiefly gladdens eye and ear, 
Bright lakes, the pine-clad mount, and hill and dale ! 
Hark ! 'twas the Alpine lark that upward trill'd : 
Angels may hear it now : 'tis mute to earth : 
And oh that sound, most sweet at distance heard, 
The hidden waterfall, that in still moon-light 
Makes pleasant music to light-tripping elves. 
Thou peaceful hut ! thou vine, that I have taught 
To clasp the rock : and thou my summer bow'r, 
Where underneath the green bough's canopy 
I sat, nor wish'd for the eagle's stretch of wing, 
That swept the upper world : oh never more 
Will I away. On you my eye first glanc'd, 
On you my dying look shall close in peace : 



284 THE CONFESSION. 

And there the sod shall rise that hides poor Ellen. 
Pray for iue — oh, I die. 

Agnes. A cold dew stands 

On her pale brow. I ne'er saw this before. 

Pro. 'Tis the fore-runner of approaching death. 

Sacristan enters. 

Sac. [to Agnes,] Lady ! Alfonso now at life's 
last close, 
Thus speaks thro' me, that he doth feel assur'd 
Of Heav'nly mercy, if the death-bed blessing 
Of Ellen rest upon him. Canst thou ask it ? 
Ellen will not deny thee. \ 

Pro. [bending over Ellen.] 'Tis, I fear, 
In vain — I trace — alas ! no sign of life. 

Agnes, [kneels 1 Oh Beav'n ! in mercy yet awhile 
keep back 
The stroke of death, and to herself restore her : 
That one last word may breathe o'er dying Julian, 
Peace and forgiveness. 

Pro. Heav'n has heard thy voice : 

The recompence of virtue shall not fail, 
While God is judge above. Her pulse faint flutters. 
Hark ! that low sigh, 

Ellen, [recovering.] I pray you, call me not 
From Heav'n's eternal rest ! where have I been? 
Most lov'd, most honour'd lady ! art thou near me? 
Then I shall die in peace. But — -where-— where 
am I ? 

Agnes, Beneath the convent roof with holy men. 



THE CONFESSION. 287 

Ellen, [gazing around her.'] Thanks, holy father: 
a poor peasant's child 
Can give no more. For thee, thou Saint on earth ! 
I have a gift : it is the pictur'd form 
Of him, who never for one base as I am, 
Should have left thee, whom only angels equal. 
Where is it ? 

Agnes. You resign'd it, gentle Ellen, 
To rescue me from death. 

Ellen. Then, take this kiss : 

And — give me thine. [They embrace. 

Agnes. Ellen — I have a wish, 

A pray'r to thee. 

Ellen. Oh may my spirit pass 

In granting it ! 

Agnes. We soon shall part for ever. 

Ellen. Not so. We meet in Heav'n. 
Agnes. But— there is one — 

Poor Julian. 

Ellen. What of him ? 
Agnes. Will he be there ? 

How shall he stand at the appointed day 
Before the judgment seat, if thy forgiveness 
Rest not upon him ? 

Ellen. Oh that now he heard me. 

'Twere now no sin to gaze upon this face, 
And hear the voice that pardons him. 

Agnes. And canst thou 

Endure the meeting ? will it not o'erpow'r thee ? 
He is beneath this roof. Will it not shock thee 
Once more to view him ? not, as once, alas, 



288 THE CONFESSION. 

In pride of manhood, but a contrite sinner 
Chastis'd by woe : and, such as now I view thee, 
Nigh unto death ? yet peace at last would sooth him, 
Blest by thy pardon. 

Ellen. Heav'n has giv'n me strength. 

If he can look on Ellen, hither lead him. 
Say, Heav'n is merciful. I pray, delay not: 
My breath begins to fail. Be not long absent. 
Oh let me, on thy breast, in blessing thee 
Breathe out my spirit ! 

Agnes. Grant me strength, ye saints ! 

[Agnes goes out. 

Prior, [looking on Ellen.] Her head reclines 
again. Sure, life has left her. 

Alfonso led in by Agnes, and supported by the 
Monks. 

Alf. I pray you, mock me not. Is she not dead ? 
Lift me, and let me gaze upon her face. 

[After long gazing on her. 
How calm ! e'en so as when I first beheld thee. 
It speaks a soul that past in peace with all : 
And if thy placid lip has utterance lost, 
That look is like a blessing. 

Ellen Agnes ? Julian ? 

Where are you ? 

Alf. Prostrate at thy feet. 

Ellen. Oh, Julian, 

In secret oft I pray'd 

That thou might'st hear my blessing : Heav'n is 
gracious. 



THE CONFESSION. 289 

Give me thy hand : I cannot see thy face, 

My eyes grow dim : thy honour'd hand, thou saint! 

Thus I unite you. [joining their hands.'] Heav'n 

has heard my pray'r. 
Now — Julian, thou art blest. We meet in heav'n. 

[Ellen dies. 

Julian. Father of Mercy ! thanks. Support me, 

Agnes ! 

Oh that I ne'er had wrong'd thee ! [Julian dies. 

Agnes, Julian — hear me — 

His hand now quits my grasp. Farewell ! farewell. 

[She kneels over them. 
Prior. Rise, virtuous mourner, rise ! celestial 
peace 
Be thine ! oh thou, who in severest trial, 
Firm in thyself, and faultless, shed'st the tear 
Lenient o'er human frailty ! peace be thine ! 

[To the Monks bending over the dead bodies. 
Brethren ! o'er these the solemn requiem breathe 1 
Then, duly in our cemetery place 
Till other burial claims : thou, [to Julian?] with 

thy sires, 
In sculptur'd tombs : and thou, [to Ellen.] poor 

child, with thine, 
Nameless beneath the grass-sod. 

Soon will pass 
Your mortal frames from sight: but long your fate 
Shall call down tears from many a stranger guest. 
Oft shall they sigh o'er thee, poor peasant girl ! 
Whose earthly woes, unmerited, await 
Heav'n's blissful recompense. For thee, Alfonso ! 
u 



290 THE CONFESSION. 

By thy example., warn the man of guilt, 
That Heav'n, who purified thy soul by woe, 
And chastened with sore wounds, may summon him, 
Flush' d from the banquet where sin ranks the guests,, 
At once before the presence of his God. 



THE END. 



ORESTES, 



A TRAGEDY 



FIVE ACTS, 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Men. 

iEgisthus, King of Argos. 

Orestes. 

Pjlades. 

Areas, Governor of Orestes. 

Calchas, Prophet and Priest of Jupiter. 

Nireus, an ancient Domestic of Agamemnon. 

Phanor., an Officer belonging to vEgisthus. 

Guards, 8$c. 

Women. 
Clytemnestra. 
Electra. 
Phedra, Attendant of Clytemnestra. 

SCENE— Argos. 

Time — that of representation. 



ORESTES, 



ACT I. SCENE I. 

The Temple of Jupiter. 

Calchas at the Altar. 

Cal. Hear., Jove supreme ! 
Thou ! who., o'er all in highe heav'n enthron'd, 
Look'st on the frail inhabitants of earth, 
Oh hear my prayer ! let not the sun, new ris'n 
On this dread day, unconscious of thy pow'r 
Withdraw his beams — bid Argos own thy might ; 
While thou, in visitation of thy wrath, 
On the polluted feast of lust and murther 
Shalt loose th' avenging thunder ! 

Nireus enters. 

Calchas, hail ! 
Cal. What brings thee hither ? 

JVire. Clytemnestra's will. 

This day, when yearly rites, that mock the heav'ns, 
In Argos solemnize the blood-stain'd nuptials, 
Fear harrows up her soul. 

Cal. [to himself. ,] Their doom is fixt. 

Not vain at dawn the omen. 



296 ORESTES. 

Nire. Clytemnestra 

Now bids thee to the palace. 

Cal. What, once more 

To hear in insolence of pride, iEgisthus 
Defy the vengeance of long-lingering Jove., 
And taunt his holy priest ! Yes — I will go : 
If Jove confirm the omen — I will go : 
But not to sooth her terror. Yet, say first 
Of wrong'd Eiectra. 

Nire. On this day's return, 

Not only, as of old, iEgisthus binds 
Her limbs with chains, and in the cavern's gloom 
Bids her, unheard, rave on her long-lost brother, 
Th' avenger, lorn Orestes, 

Cal. [interrupting him.~] Hear, hear, Heav'n ! 

Nire. But ere the sun go down, his vow is past 
To join by force the daughter of Atrides 
With one low-born : that never heir arise 
To claim the crown of Argos, or avenge 
Her murther'd sire. 

Cal. The measure is complete. 

'Tis doom'd above, the impious are no more. 
I will consult the God — Nireus, retire — [Exeunt. 

Scene the second. — An apartment in the Palace. 
iEGisTHus — -Clytemnestra. 

JEgis. Scorn, Clytemnestra, these unwonted fears : 
Prepare to grace the triumph. 

Cly. No, ^Egisthus— 



ORESTES. 297 

Not oracles, nor voice of answering shrine, 
Signs from the flight of bird, or bleeding victim, 
So mark impending doom, as the night vision, 
The harbinger of vengeance. 

JEgis. Clytemnestra, 

Shall idle terrors, shadows of a dream 
Subdue thy daring spirit ? these are mock'ries 
That dotage dwells on, or the senseless fears 
Of credulous childhood - - 

Cly. [interrupting him] Hear me — 

JEgis. I have seen thee 

Mid the fierce clamours of the madd'ning tumult 
Staud with undaunted brow. 

Cly. Thou hast beheld me 

Stain'd with the blood of man, a warrior's blood, 
The woman stood before astonish'd Argos, 
Her dagger dropping gore, I dread none earthly. 
This supernatural sight o'er-powers my soul. 
Look here — while Clytemnestra shakes before thee, 
Hast thou no fear ? 

JEgis. None from the dreams of night. 
While yet Orestes liv'd 

Cly. [interrupting him.~\ Is he too murther'd ? 

JEgis. If gold can bribe, Orestes is no more — 
Why droops thy brow ? his father's spirit fir'd him : 
His hate pursu'd, his vengeful blade hung o'er us. 
Speak I ungrateful words, thy son is dead ? 

Cly. Thou never had'st a child — 

JEgis. Mourn not his loss. 

Cly. Here, at this breast he hung. 



298 ORESTES. 

Messenger enters. 

Mes. Dread Lord, the pomp 

Waits but tbj presence— 

JEgis. Go — bid forth my train. 

Come, Cljtemnestra, rob'd in Troy's proud spoils, 
dace, as of old, the triumph. 

Cly. No— -iEgisthus — 

I will not grace the triumph : let the base 
Conceal their fear : such as I am behold me— 
I know not female artifice that lends 
The lip of misery a dissembling smile. 
No robe of Phrygian state shall blaze on me, 
No banquet hail my presence— 

t/Egis. Have I wrong'd thee ? 

Dost thou repent the deed that joins our doom ? 

Cly. Were it again to act, again this hand 
Would slay the man who wrong'd me — thee, iEgis- 

thus, 
I still have faithful found. Whate'er the fate 
That Jove decrees, tho' thunder burst around me, 
Thee I will ne'er desert. 

JEgis. I know thee now. 

Cly. Go, glitter in thy splendor. Yet — I pray 
thee — 
Yet— nay, I charge thee, that no word, no look, 
No, not a silent smile betray contempt. 
I brook not insult, less from thee than all — 
Beware — 

JEgis. Why this to me ? speak — 

Cly. When the spectre 



ORESTES. 299 

Glar'd on me as I shriek'd — thou — dost not heed me., 
'Tis man thou fear'st — hast thou no other fear ? 

jEgis. Say on — 

Cly. I breath'd aloud a vow to heav'n, 

That on this fated day his child, Electra, 
Should on Atrides' sepulchre, complete 
The funeral rites ! We reck'd not of the dead. 
Th' accepted offerings haply may appease 
The avenging spirit — from this blood-stain'd hand 
Such rites were profanation. 

Mgis. But Electra 

Now groans in chains, and, ere the night-fall, forc'd 
To hateful nuptials, vents her idle rage 
Beneath a servile roof. 

Cly. Free her from chains. 

Urge not the unequal tie : I have but her, 
Yet, if regardless of a mother's will 
That daughter mock my fear, fix thou her doom*, 
E'en what thou wilt, so I no more behold her. 
Her voice has terror in it : and her eye 
In awful silence fixt on mine, exerts 
Strange mastery o'er my spirit — 

Messenger enters. 

Calchas comes. 
Cly, Avoid the indignant prophet. 

[TEgisthus exit, as Calchas enters, 

H« ly Seer ! 
Accept thy Sovereign's thanks, that thou, long time 



300 ORESTES. 

A stranger to this palace, once again, 

At Clytemnestra's call, hast deign'd to hear 

What weighs upon her heart — 

Cal. [interruping her.'] No thanks, for this, 
To me are due — ere my reluctant step 
Past o'er thy threshold, the inspected victim 
Gave sign ; alone that signal I obey'd— 

Cly. Jove-honour'd prophet ! super-natural hor- 
rors, 
Mark me the victim of Heav'n's imminent wrath. 

Cal.'— [pointing up.~\ Their justice reigns- — thou 
shalt not scape thy doom. 

Cly. Thy prescience, Seer, can all unfold : thy 
pray'rs, 
Wing'd intercessors at the throne of Jove, 
Avert impending destiny, and turn 
The thunder in its course. 

Cal. Here prayer avails not. 
When impious mortals tremble at their doom, 
Alone repentance at the throne of Jove 
Pleads, and is heard Repent ! 

Cly. Not — not for this 

I call'd thee. Priest, thy office hallows thee : 
Or, ere this hour, the tongue that rudely taunts 
Its sovereign had been mute. 

[Calchas going in anger, she stops him. 
Stay— 

Cal. Impious mortal ! 

I leave thee to thy fate — 

Cly. [detaining him.'] Not unrevealed : 



ORESTES. 301 

Or shield me from these horrors, or unfold 
Clearly the dread unknown : that now my soul 
May summon all its strength to meet Heav'n's 
wrath. 

Cal. I speak but what Jove dictates — thou, be 
brief — 

Cly. Calchas, thou know'st, this day, ten years 
gone by 
The son of Atreus perish'd — 

Cal. Slain by thee — 

Cly. Aye — I deny it not — 

Cal. 'Tis known to all. 

Cly. He justly fell : and ever on this day 
We hold a solemn festival at Argos, 
In honour of my nuptials with iEgisthus ; 

Add - - - if thou wilt of triumph o'er the slain. 

This too is known to all — but 'tis not known, 

That ever duly on this day's return, 

E'en at the very instant, at the dead 

Of midnight, when I smote him, a deep groan, 

Such as he utter'd when he fell beneath me, 

Bursts on my ear : and one, who cries " revenge," 

Floats by ; a shapeless figure indistinct : 

For I have gaz'd on't with unalter'd eye, 

'Till the dim shadow vanish'd from my sight. 

Last night the groan was heard, the voice was 

heard 
Of one who cried ce revenge :" — the shadow floated : 
But. gradually the uncertain shape assum'd 
The foim of Agamemnon, mail'd in arms, 
Such as he stands, terrific on his tomb. 



302 ORESTES. 

Cal. Didst thou then gaze with an unalter'd eye ? 

Cly. No — 'twas himself — I could not gaze on 
him. 
But, ere I turn'd, I saw the wound I made : 
And thro' his corselet gush'd the blood : he caught it. 
And from the hollow of his hand pour'd forth 
An offering to the Furies : then drew near 
And cast the dregs on me. 

Cal. That was no phantom. 

Cly. 'Twas fresh, 'twas living blood, 'twas warm 
to sense, 
Such as it spouted on me when I smote him. 
I turn'd aside, but still before my sight 
Which way my scar'd eye glanc'd, arm'd Furies 

stood. 
The viper brood that round their tresses tangled 
Their scaly coils, turn'd all their stings on me. 
On me, each bickering eye, that roll'd in blood, 
Shot sparks of fire. A voice of thunder burst, 
te Thus, will we lap thy blood" — ct the dead shall 

" slay thee" — 
I shriek'd : in rush'd the attendants : all was void- 
But they too heard the iron of their feet 
That echoed on the pavement : they beheld 
The flames in trailing flakes along the gloom — 
Say ! how shall I appease th' avenging Furies ? 

Cal. By offerings suited to their ruthless nature. 

Cly. Prophet! explain those words — cc the dead 
ec shall slay thee." 

Cal. [aside. 1 ] Aid me, inspiring Jove ! 

Cly. Wilt thou not answer ? 



ORESTES. 303 

Cal. In silence hear the pow'r, who guides my 
voice. — 

Cly. Oh speak ! 

Cal. This day, a stranger youth, heav'n-sent, 

To Argos bears Orestes' funeral urn. — 
He can unfold the mystery of fate. — 

Cly. Would he were come ! 

Cal. He comes — obey the God — 

Thou, and ^Egisthus, to the secret bath 
Where Agamemnon perish'd, lead the stranger ; 
There, force him to reveal, howe'er reluctant, 
What Phoebus has imparted — bid Electra 
On Agamemnon's tomb libations pour. 

Cly Where bled Atrides ? said'st thou — in the 
bath- 
Not there — not there — I pray thee. — 

Cal. On that spot 

Question the stranger youth : and, if averse, 
Force him to speak. — 

Cly. I thank thee, Seer ! farewell. — [Exeunt. 

As they go out, ^Egisthus and Phanor enter. 
Pha. Electra doth refuse 



*/Egis. Refuse to quit 

The gloomy cell ! 

Pha. " No earthly pow'r, this day, 

(C Shall force me to behold the light I loath." — 
Such were her words. — 

i/Egis. Bid her expect my presence. 

[Phanor goes. 



304 ORESTES. 

Oft, proud Electra, hast thou vainly sought 
To bear thy offerings to Atrides' tomb : 
If proffer'd, thou reject it, never more 
Thy voice, domestic fiend, shall threat JEgisthus. 

[Exit, 

Scene the Third, a Prison, 

Electra— Phanor enters. 

Pha. iEgisthus comes. 

Elec. Is there yet more to bear ? 

iEoisTHus enters. 

^Egis. Go, Phanor — 

Elec. No — be present — stir not hence- — . 

With him I hold not secret conference. — 

c/Egis. Yield not to vain suspicions—- if thou wilt. 
Detain him — bid him strictly note each word, 
Record each look — yet, were no witness near. 
Woman, the weakness of thy sex protects thee. 
Thou hast no cause for fear. — 

Elec. Phanor, retire.— [fee S oes - 

We dread not whom we scorn — speak, I am mute. 

*/Egis. I would that we had met in fitter place ! 

Elec. It suits a sufferer that delights in grief: 
It suits an outrag'd soul that broods on vengeance : 
It suits the day, the deed, thee most, base murderer ! 
Look on these chains : think on the groans of death 
That echoed through these vaults. 



ORESTES. 305 

JEgis. I come to grant 

What thou hast oft implor'd. 

Elec. I oft have claim'd 

Rights still deny'd : the melancholy right, 
To shed a tear on the unhonour'd tomb 
Of him whom thou didst slay — I ne'er implor'd thee. 

JEgis. 'Twere well that thou hadst sued — time 
\*as, Electra, 
That I with gifts and proffer'd kindness sought 
To sooth thy haughty spirit. 

Elec, Gifts ! to me ! 

Tyrant ! thou speak'st to Agamemnon's daughter ! 
No bribe can lure the lion race to fawn — 

JEgis. Therefore the lion race isgall'dwith chains. 

Elec. [with vehement indignation.'] Where art 
thou, brother ? — I had hope in thee — 
The sun keeps on his course, and the firm earth 
Rests on its base — Yet Jove holds sway in heav'n. 

JEgis. I come to free thee from these slavish 
chains : 
Free thee from nuptials that disgrace thy birth, 
And bid thee offer at a father's tomb 
The long-neglected rites. — 

Elec. Thou mock'st me, tyrant — 

JEgis. I loose thy chains. — 

Elec. No — not a link shall fall. — 

These bonds are precious to me — time shall come 
When such may chain thee where the Furies close 
Their adamantine rivets. — 

jEgis. Dost thou wish 

To honour Agamemnon ? 



306 ORESTES. 

Elec. More than life— 

If life the sacrifice, my father ! hear me ! 
For thee, another daughter gladly dies. 
Iphigenia bleeds again in me. 

jEgis. Go forth, and place on Agamemnon's tomb 
Thy mother's offerings. 

Elec. Said I not, thou mock'st me ? — - 

jEgis. I mock thee not. 'Tis Clytemnestra's will. 

Elec. Her will ! aid, Keav'n ! repentance yet may 
touch her ! 
Yes. I will bear the offerings. Lead me to her. 

[Exeunt. 



END OF ACT THE FIRST. 



ORESTES. 307 



ACT II. SCENE I. 

A Street within the Walls of Argos. 
Orestes bearing an Urn. Pylades, Arcas. 

Arc. Brave youths ! by friendship join'd, and 
now by fate 
In common danger yok'd, here safely rest. 
None know you here. I, in strange garb disguised, 
Long absent from these walls, will venture on, 
And timely caution give. 

Pyla. [pointing to Orestes.] How deep his groan! 
Grief, like the mildew on the bloom of spring, 
Preys on his faded prime. Oh soothe his soul ! 

Arc. \to Orestes.'] The oracle of Phcebus shall 
not fail. 
Soon will your mission cease. 

Ores. Oh ! 

Pyla. Why that groan f 

Arc. He droops o'er-wearied — rest — behold the 
goal— 
These are the walls of Argos. There, the palace 
Tow'rs proudly eminent. 

Ores. Oh ! 

Pyla- Droop not, brother. 

Arc. Thou ! whom these arms received, e'en from 
the cradle, 



308 ORESTES. 

When sad Electra rescued thee from death, 

Orestes ! firmly execute thy charge. 

Thou, Pylades ! watch o'er him, rouse his soul 

By words that fire the hero. Here remain — 

I will not long be absent. [Exit. 

Pyla. Lean on me. 

Friend of my soul ! thou more than brother, come, 
Lean on this faithful breast ! — tho' long the way, 
And rough the mountain tract, I oft have seen thee 
From dawn to night-fall urge the brindled wolf. 
And laugh to scorn the partners of the chase, 
That fainted in the noon-beam — silent — still — 
Think on the race when you outstript the Phocian, 
Nam'd from his speed, the Brother of the Wind. — 

Ores, [to himself. ~\ These are the walls of Argos. 

Pyla. Look upon me — 

Hast thou forgot, when thou a boy didst wield 
The cactus' weight, and level I'd at a blow 
Polydamas, who, proud of giant size 
Unrivall'd, buffetted in sport the wind ? 

Ores, [to himself."] There tow'rs the palace, 
proudly eminent.— 

Pyla. Alas ! the themes once wont to please, avail 
not! 

Ores. Oh dire disgrace ! that Agamemnon's son 
Should thus approach the palace of his fathers ! 
Thus lone, disguis'd, and stranger to his kin, 
The midnight plunderer in the gloom that shrouds 

him, 
Starts, as he falters on — Oh ! Pylades ! 
We, in the light of day, 'mid wondering throngs, 



ORESTES. 309 

When every eye gaz'd on us, oft have vow'd 
To rush where glory sunimon'd us, tho' death 
Stood at the goal, and held the wreath to crown us. 
But — now — 

Pyla. Thou must obey th' inspiring God. 

By artifice, not force, ensure success — 
Rouse from despair — revenge thy father's death ! 

Ores. By any deed but this — a mother's murther! 

Arcas enters. 

Arc. Brave youths ! go boldly on — the palace 
gates 
Are left without a guard : and Clytenmestra, 
(So rumour speaks) lone broods o'er boding fears. 
Ores, [with horror.'] Not that the place — not this 
th' appointed hour — 
At midnight — in the bath — where fell my father — 
Not in obscure response Apollo spoke. 

Arc. First, Orestes, 
Bear the feign'd tale to Clytemnestia's ear. 
That done, on Agamemnon's tomb complete 
The funeral rites. There claim th' appointed signal. 
On that thy doom depends : on that, the faith 
Due to the Delphic shrine. Thy father's image 
Shall, as instinct with life, thrice wave his lance ; 
Or we are made the mockery of vain words, 
And murther stalks unpunish'd — 

[A festive chorus in the procession ofJEgisthus 
is heard.] 

Hark ! that sound 
As of some festive choir ! 



310 ORESTES, 

Phanor, with some of uEgisthus's guards enters. 

Pha. What may this mean ? 

Why bends that mourner o'er the funeral urn ? 
Nought of disastrous portent on this day 
Shall cloud rejoicing Argos — hence ! — [to Orestes. 

Ores. Beware— 

Arc. Touch not that youth — we mean not to 
offend — 

Pha. Hence ! 

Pyla. Say, ere we depart, why rings the shout 
Of joy and choral song ? 

Pha. 'Tis Argos' feast, 

Her annual feast : when every slave and captive, 
Free as his lord, the common banquet shares. 

Pyla. What cause thus consecrates a nation's joy ? 

Pha. iEgisthus' nuptials ! 

Ores, [who, till now, had appeared regardless of 
their discourse, hursts forward j 

Slave ! 'tis false. 

Pyla. Oh heed not — 

Grief for the dead distracts him. 

Pha. On, I haste 

To join the pomp. Away, nor linger here, 
Sullying with ill-tim'd gloom the general joy. 

[Exit. 

Ores, [drawing a dagger.'} Come, Pylades — he 
dies — a lion's nerve 
Strengthens my sinews. 

Arc. Stay, rash youth ! you rush 



ORESTES. 311 

On self-destruction — Guards and thronging crouds 
Compass him round.- — 

Ores. Nor guards, nor throngs avail, 

When vengeance strikes the blow by justice doom'd, 
It strikes like Heav'n's wing'd bolt : earth quakes 

beneath it, 
And all that live fly from the prostrate victim. 
I will not be restrain'd come — 

Arc. Pylades ! 

If thou regard his life, oh hold, detain him ! 

[the chorus is again heard. 

Ores. That shout again ! I will not be controll'd ! 
Oh may it rouse the thunder that but sleeps 
At Jove's right hand ! — Away 

Pyla. [restraining him.] Orestes — friend ! 

Ores. Ha! 

Pyla. Hear me ! 

Ores. Any pray'r — but that — but that — 

Thou sway'st at will each impulse of my soul. — 

Pyla. My brother ! 

Ores. Do not, I beseech thee, urge 

Thy influence o'er me — heard'st thou ? 'tis his 

feast ! 
Base Argos revels for iEgisthus' nuptials ! 
It is vEgisthus, not a mother's breast 
I haste to pierce. 

Pyla. The oracle decreed, 

Art should prevail, not force. 

Ores, [his hand on his breast.'] Here — here it 
speaks — 
I want no other oracle. Stay thou — 



312 ORESTES. 

Jove ! let me strike him dead ! I ask not life. 

Farewell. 

[as he rushes out, Pylades embraces him. 
Pyla. We die together. — 

Ores. Stay, my brother ! 

Pyla. Lead on ! 

Ores. But — they will slay — thee — 

Pyla. Boldly go. — 

Ores. Mould, mould me at thy will — what shall 

I do? 
Pyla. Swear, if thou meet the tyrant in his triumph, 
Thou wilt not strike him ere th' appointed time. 
Ores. An oath ! to thee ! — my friend ! take my 

pledg'd hand. 
Arc. Oh virtuous youths ! great Jove ! in safety 
guide you. [Exeunt. 



Scene the Second. — The Great Square. 

The triumphal procession of Mgistiivs. — He, in a 
Car, adorn' cl with garlands, drawn by four Horses. 
— Music, Choral Hymn, Guards, People shouting. 

Arcas, Orestes, Pylades, crossifig the stage. 

Arc. I pray you, pass this way — avoid the press. 
Ores. E'en where thou wilt. 
Pha. [seeing them.~\ Unmanner'd stranger ! hence. 
Bear off that funeral urn. — 

Ores, Let me pass on. — 



ORESTES. 313 

Pha. Guards ! force him from the place — 

jEgis. What means this tumult ? 

Pha. Regard it not, oh King! some men, obscure, 
Strangers, it seems, to Argos — 

JEgis. Ha ! an urn 

Crossing our pomp ! reveal jour name, your country. 
Disclose your purpose ? — speak — 

Ores. Our country, Phocis : 

Of race unknown to fame. 

uEgis. Whose ashes, Phocians, 

Rest in that urn? — 

Ores. — We bear to Clytemnestra — 

JEgis. [interrupting 111111.] The ashes of Orestes ? 

Ores. — in this urn — 

jEgis. [descending from his car.] Thrice welcome! 
strangers ! share our joyful feast — 
Not unrewarded you return from Argos. — 
Give him that royal robe, — 

Ores. We seek no gifts— 

We may not share the banquet — look on this. 

[the urn. 
From Strophius we are come — the Lord of Phocis — 
By whose command we bear the last remains 
Of him that was Orestes — When he fell 
Before the Altar of the Delphian God, 
Slain by an Argive, — 

JEgis. — Cease — we reck not this — 

Ores. King ! it imports thee much — When slander 
strikes 
The fetter'd slave, he, bold in innocence, 
Confronts the base accuser, and asserts 



314 ORESTES. 

The dignity of virtue ! hear, vEgisthus ! 
Orestes slew the wretch who pierc'd his breast ; 
And the Assassin with his dying breath. 
Pronounced — 

Pyla. [endeavouring to silence him.] 

Peace, brother ! 
Ores, [not regarding him.] That iEgisthus sent 

him ! 
JEgis. [after a long pause.'] That urn, thou say'st, 
contains Orestes' ashes : 
Why hither brought ? — Phocis knows funeral rites. 

Ores. May not the ashes of a son repose 
Where sleeps his sire ?- — May not one kindred tear 
Be shed upon his urn, who never knew 
In life the blessing of a kindred smile ? 

JEgis. Electra lives — a mother's tear, no doubt — 
Ores, [aside.] A mother — 

Mgis. — -Go — to Clytemnestra bear 

The ashes of her son — 

[to his guard.] Ye — safely guard him. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene the Third — an Apartment in the Palace. 
Clytemnestra, Phedra. 

Phe. Vainly I urg'd — Electra still refuses, 
(No cause assign'd) from other hand than thine, 
To take the funeral offerings — this the bowl — 
And this the consecrated hair you sent — 

[presents them. 



ORESTES. 315 

Cly. No other hand but hers may bear the gift : 
None left, save her alone. Twas Calchas spoke it: 
I may not disobey — conduct her hither — 

\_Phedra goes. 
Omit whate'er these Prophets have enjoin'd, 
All fails/ and we., forewarn'd, provoke our doom. 

Electra and Phedra enter. 

Cly. [to Electra. ~\ Thou hast refus'd to bear my 
funeral offerings ! 

Elec. I dar'd not place them on my father's tomb, 
'Till I had commun'd with thee — 

Cly. Say — what cause ? — 

Elec. What cause ? And dost thou ask ? And 
shall I speak it. 

Cly. Haply thou deem'dst it base, beneath thy 
birth, 
To take these gifts from other hands than mine ? 

Elec. I long have suffer'd base indignities — 
Lo, these [her chains. 

Cly. I bad iEgisthus free thee. 

Elec. Yes, 

He proffer'd — I refus'd — 

Cly. Yet, in that guise, 

Offerings were insu|$ — 

Elec. No — 'tis when the woman 

Who slew her husband, mocks his tomb with gifts. 

Cly. Daughter ! 

Elec. Oh, would that I could answer — Mother ! 

Cly. My soul is overcharged with horror. Spare 
me — 



316 ORESTES. 

Elec. Therefore I came. 'Tis now the suited time 
When words may pierce the soul. Oh ! had I found 

thee 
A thoughtless reveller, rob'd in nuptial pomp. 
And smiling at the thron'd adulterer's side., 
I never had addrest thee — now I view thee 
Clad in the garb of woe : and thy pale hue, 
Marks the deep wound that festers in thy soul. 
I see this, yet rejoice not : no, nor feel 
The triumph that repays, exalts the opprest 
When the oppressor falls. Behold these tears — 
They stream for thee — 

[clasping Clytemnestra's hand. 

Cly. And have I yet a child ? 

Elec. Oh, pow'r of heav'n ! now give me words 
of force 
To change the soul. Turn not away, my mother ! 
No whisper of reproach shall wound thy ear. 
We long have been estiang'd, not known each other: 
For ever, at my coming, base ^Egisthus 
Stood like a fiend between us. Oh, my mother. 
Year after year has past unheeded o'er thee. 
In the brief breathing space, this side the tomb 
In mercy left, one moment yet is thine : 
The present — Now. & 

Oh ! on the tablet of eternity, 
Record it by contrition — 

Cly. [highly agitated, aside.] Oh, I cannot ! 

Elec. Turn not away — not for myself I plead. 
All, I forgive thee all. I plead for one 
Lov'd more than life. I plead for sad Orestes : 



ORESTES. SIT 

For a lov'd brother ; for thy son, I plead. 
Recal the wanderer 

Cly. Oh ! 

Elec. At Argos crown him. 

Restore him to the empire of his fathers ; 
So will I bear the votive gifts, and sooth 
Him, him that was thy husband. I will tend 
Thy troubled couch : nor leave thee at the hour 
When g ui It at death 's approach, shal I rise before thee, 
A Fury arm/d. Repent, and crown Orestes. 

Cly, Ah, haply at this hour, he too 

Phedra enters. 

Phe. Dread Queen ! 

Sent from iEgisthus, at the palace gates 
A stranger youth — 

Cly. A stranger youth ! 

Phe. Who bears 

A funeral urn. 

Cly. 'Tis he — I come, I come — 

Elec. Not yet — oh hear ! 

Cly. My fate on him depends. 

Elec. Now, on my knees, I pray one moment 
hear me. 
I saw thy big tear tremble, Oh, my mother ! 
We never, since the day my father died, 
Have known one common woe. 

Cly. No more detain me. 

'Tis he — away — 

Elec. [in anger.'] Dost thou despise my prayer ? 
I on my bended knee have clasp'd thy hand. 



318 ORESTES. 

Cly. Say, wilt thou bear these offerings to the 
dead ? 

Elec. Yes : or I ne'er shall view my father's tomb. 

Cly. Away. [Exit* 

Elcc. [to Phedra.~\ Take thou the offerings- 
follow me. [Exeunt. 



Scene changes to the Gates of the Palace, magnifi- 
cently decorated with Trophies. 

Phanor and Guards— Arcas, Orestes, Pylades. 

Pha. These are the gates with Ilium's trophies 

grac'd — 
Pass not that threshold — here exepect the Queen. 
Ores, [after a pause of wonder. ~] Hail, palace! 

and thou portal ! o'er whose arch 
The spoils of Troy by Agamemnon plac'd — 

Pyla. [interrupting him, aside.'] Beware — we are 

observ'd — the guard yet lingers. 
Clytemnestra [heard in entering.'] Where is the 

stranger ? Clytemnestra greets him. ♦ 
Ores, [hearing her voice, looks up.] Turn me to 

stone, or I am lost for ever. 

Clytemnestra, Electra, Phedra, enter. 

Art thou the mother of Orestes ? 

Cly. ' Yes- 

Ores. Whom then behold I there, of royal port ? 
Elec. His sister. 



ORESTES. 319 

Ores. Thou — Electra ! 

Elec. What of him ? 

Ores. Thou, that Electra ! thou — Orestes' sister. 

Elec. Long suffering bears the show of length of 
years. 
Be but Orestes safe,, and life new-born 
Will glow in every vein — thou answer'st not-— 
Why art thou silent ? 

Cly. [impatiently .] Say, what brought thee hither? 
Stranger ! why thus transfixt in senseless woe ? 
Why gaze on her ? I, I am Clytemnestra. 

Ores. I come, the bearer of a mournful tale 
To thee and to thy race. 

Elec. Hah ! 

Cly. Youth ! disclose it. 

Ores. Heav'n haply has possest thee with a spirit 
That yields not to misfortune — on that brow — 

[Electra. 
I note alas ! the lineaments of one 
Who will not hear my tale of woe, unmov'd— 
Let her depart : and one brief word unfolds 
My mournful mission. — 

Cly. Hear'st thou not, Electra ? 

Elec. Speak it. 

Ores. I pray thee urge her to retire. 

Cly. [to Electra.'] Thou hear'st — 

Elec. I stir not hence — my soul is dead 

Alike to joy and grief, save that alone 
Which from a brother flows — and if thou bring 
Aught of Orestes, till thy voice reveal it, 
No force shall hence remove me. 



320 ORESTES. 

Ores, [to Electro, ] Arm thy soul- 

Here lies, within this urn, what was Orestes. 
An Arg ve basely slew him — we, from Phocis^ 
Bring this to place it in Atrides' tomb — 
Thou hast rny mission — 

Elec. Wherefore should I breathe ? 

I have no hope — earth ! hide me in thy womb ! 

[falls down. 

Ores. Oh let me raise thee ! — 

Elec. Touch me not, I charge thee. 

Not with that hand that held Orestes' urn. 
My father ! thou shalt hear, and aid Electra. — 

[Exit. 

Ores. Oh ! 

Cly. Heed her not ! — thy unexpected words 

Have pierc'd my heart. Yet, stranger ! go not hence. 
[to all the other s.~\ You — -stand apart — good youth ! 

Ores, [with horror.~\ What would'st thou, 

woman ? 

Cly. Thy aid ! 

Ores. I cannot aid thee — 

Cly. Thou alone 

Canst free my soul from agonising horror. 
Gifts of rare worth shall crown thy prompt com- 
pliance. 
A feast is in the palace held this night : 
I shall not join the revels — while they banquet, 
Meet me alone. Things of high import urge. 
Why dost thou turn away ? 

Ores. Meet thee alone ! 

Oh 1 ask not that ! 



ORESTES. 321 

Cly. A heav'n-taught Seer enjoin'd it — 

The prophet Calchas. — 

Ores. Ha ! 'tis passing strange ! 

Cly Say thou consent's! — 

Ores. I'll meet thee. 

Cly. Lone — 

Ores. Expect me. [Exeunt. 



END OF ACT THE SECOND. 



$%% ORESTES. 

ACT III. SCENE I 

A Street in Argos. 
Orestes — Py lades. 

Ores. Areas will soon return— here wait his 
coming 1 . 
I must depart alone — 

Pyla, Why force me from thee ? 

Ores. Forbear — 

Pyla, • Not habit, nor the ties of blood, 

But sympathy of nature made us one ; 
We never have been sunder'd- — hand in hand, 
We still with equal pace have shap'd our course 
Till this sad hour — our joys, our griefs the same. 
One cradle rock'd our infant sleep : our sports 
In youth the same ; the same adventurous perils 
Enur'd our growing strength to stem the battle — ■ 

Ores. Were it to stem the battle, Pylades ! 
We were not now to part ! 

Pyla. Yet, let me join thee. 

Each wish, new springing in thy mind, ere utter'd, 
My ready zeal prevented. Grant me this. 

Ores. Brother, thou art unkind : it wrings my soul. 
Strange doubts perplex — I will not long be absent. 
There dwells the prophet, a brief word at once 
Unveils the mystery ; I go alone. 
Farewell. 



ORESTES. 323 

Pyla. Yet — go not thus in anger from me ! 
Ores. Come, to my heart. And, if it seem,, my 
brother, 
That there beyond just time I linger — 

Pyla. Well- 

Ores. Seek me. 

Pyla. I shall not fail — this, this is kind. 

One word — and then — farewell — 

Ores. Be brief — 

Pyla. Orestes, 

Now,, by the vow that death should ne'er disjoin us, 

When, prostrate at the hallo w'd shrine of friendship, 

Tears, for each other shed, gush'd forth ; I charge 

thee 
If the Seer threaten danger, call on me. — 

Ores. I would not live without thee. Art thou 

answer'd ? 
Pyla. Farewell. \_Orestes goes.~\ His gloomy 
silence awes my soul. 

Arcas enters. 

Arc. Where is Orestes ? leave him not, I charge 
thee— - 

Pyla. Hast thou not prosper'd, Arcas ? 

Arc. None are left 

Of Troy's proud conquerors, save neglected veterans 
Who dare not shew a scar. On every side 
New dangers threat. Suspicion closely marks us. 
E'en 'mid the license of the public feast 
The guards are doubled, and each questioned stranger 
Who falters in his answer— 



324 ORESTES. 

Phanor enters* 

Pha. [to Areas.] Follow me. — [guards enter. 

Arc. In what have I offended ? 

Pha. Not unwatch'd 

Hast thou held secret conference with men 
Of sterner times,, who shun us as a race 
That have forgot our fathers. Come thou forth 
Where tortures shall force out unwilling truth. 

Arc. [looking on Pylades.] Be sure, no torture 
shall unlock these lips. 

Pha. [to Pi/ladcs.~] Speak'st thou to him — thou 
too beware — his fate 
Perchance impends o'er thee. [Exeunt. 

Pyla. Lost, lost Orestes 1 [Exit. 



Scene changes to the Temple of Jupiter. 
Calchas. 

Cal. [to a Minister.] Now let him enter. The 
clear sparkling flame 

[Orestes slowly advances. 
Gave no ungrateful sign— approach the altar. 

Ores. Hail ! 

Cal. Not reluctance, youth! nor ought of honour 
Due to the Minister of highest Jove, 
Delay'd thy entrance : holy rites detain'd me : 
And suppliant Kings must wait till fav'ring omens 
Permit approach. 

Ores. Hail, Seer ! I bring thee not 



ORESTES. 325 

OfF'rings of votive gold, and precious incense: 
No victim led by me shall stain the altar. 
If heav'n, unsifted, hears not him who calls. 
Seer, I retire in silence. 

Cal. There are gifts 

Of higher rate than gold and hecatombs : 
Gifts, which from op'ning heav'n draw blessings 

down : 
The tribute of an uncorrupted heart. 
If such thj offering, speak — 

Ores. My years are few. 

As yet — these hands are pure — but— 

Cal. Freely speak. 

Ores, If thou canst read the heart, in mine behold 
The bittter conflict of a troubled spirit, 
That agonis'd by woe, doubt, fear, despair, 
Dreads e'en the wreck of reason. — -Seer, assist me. 

Cal. Poor youth ! I pity thee — I will assist thee — 
My voice shall still the tumult of thy soul. 

Ores, [with vehemence.] Thou still the tumult of 
my soul ! — oh, rather 
Urge to its height the storm, that so my arm 
May execute its mission — holy Seer ! 
Thau talk'st to one of that disastrous mood 
Whose mind no longer master of itself, 
Acts not its own resolve. Seer ! I am bound 
To deeds that shock my nature. 'Tis most horrible! 
Turn this to stone, [striking his breast.~\ that, at the 

name of mother 
Sheds drops of blood, and I will do the deed ! 

[Falls on the altar. 



326 ORESTES. 

Cal. [after a pause.] 'Tishe — the long expected — ■ 
[aside."] 'tis tli' avenger. 
Thou must perform, unquestion'd, Heav'n's com- 
mand — 

Ores, [rising gradually almost to frenzy^] 

Prophets may speak, and Oracles pronounce 
ec So move'' — - ei this deed be done" — C( 'tis Heav'n's 

{e command" — 
But they forget that the poor instrument 
To execute that will, is Man, weak Man. 
Rocks, at the call divine, leap from their base, 
Earth, at the word, deep to its centre shakes, 
The sea, and the wing'd storm, and fiery bolt, 
Wait but a nod. Be these the instruments 
To execute Heav'n's vengeance on the world. 
But let not man be urg'd to shed man's blood. 
What, if the guilt of an abandon'd woman 
That slew her husband, calls down signal vengeance! 
Must the son plunge a dagger in the heart 
Of her who bore him ? 

Cal. Aid, inspiring Jove ! 

Offspring of Agamemnon, Troy's great conqueror, 
Orestes ! — 

Ores. How — Orestes ! why thus call 
A wandering stranger, a lost wretch unknown ? 

Cal. [with enthusiastic dignity^] I know thee— 
know thou me — 'tis Calchas speaks. 
1 at the altar stood the ministering priest, 
This consecrated blade I hold before thee, 
Gleam'd in my hand, descending swift in act 
To pierce the prorler'd bosom of thy sister, 



ORESTES. 327 

Whom Agamemnon to Diana's shrine 
Had led, his first-born, Iphigene, to slaughter. 
The virgin knelt beneath me, and to heav'n 
Look'd up with fearless eye ; before me, bow'd 
The father, in his mantle veild from sight. 
I heard his groan : deep as the groan of death. 
The father felt : the chief of Greece obey'd. 
Taught by thy father, son, obey the Gods. 
Fir'd by thy sister 

Ores, [seizing his dagger.] Seer — 'tis done — thy 
dagger ! 

Cal. This never shall be stain'd with human blood* 
Hast thou forgotten it ? not this the blade — 
Heav'n, in fit time, will arm thee with a weapon 
Forg'd for the deed. 

Ores, [full of horror .] 'Tis true — the very blade, 
(Said it not so ?) with which she slew my Father. 
So spake the Pythian : and that none, save that, 
And trusted to me by a mother's hand 
Must do its office. How shali I obtain it ? 

Cal. Ere night — thou shalt possess it — now delay 
not. 
Go to thy father's tomb, invoke his shade : 
There Fate's portentous sign shall fix thy doom. 
If unappeas'd the spirit claim revenge, 
Strike, without dread — farewell. — 

Ores, Seer ! — I obey. [Exeunt. 



338 ORESTES. 



Scene changes to the Tomb of Agamemnon. — His 
Statue in armour on the Sepulchre, 

Electra, Phedra. 

Elec. Forgive ! dread spirit of my sire ! forgive I 
Bring me the bowl — the offerings — on the tomb 
Lo, these I place : this, on the earth pour forth — 
Heard you that hissing foam ? the unhallow'd stream 
Bubbles, and froths, and vanishes, in fumes 
Loathsome to sense. And, see the earth beneath 
Peel'd bare, as if the light'ning, in its passage 
Had scath'd it, marking out to unborn ages 
A spot accurst, where grass nor herb shall spring. 
To Clytemnestra go. I have obey'd 
Her will. Relate, most solemnly I charge thee, 

What thou hast witness'd here 

Phe. I shall not fail. [Exit. 

Elec. Oh honour 'd shade ! that in the realms of 
night 
Hast sense of human act (else wherefore this ?) 

[pointing to the earth. 
Deign thou to pardon, that a daughter's hand 
Has dar'd pollute thy sepulchre, with gifts 
From her — who slew thee. I have none to oifer — 
But I will pour upon thy tomb, my Father ! 
Vows that rcr>re priz'd than incense of the east, 
Shall gratify thy spirit. Vows of vengeance : 
Vengeance against thy slaters. Sire ! assist me ! 
None breathe on earth who hear Electra's cry. 



ORESTES. 329 

He, be, for whom alone, hope yet awhile 
Sustain'd ray soul, Orestes is no more. 
The rather thou arise ! that, at thy voice, 
A woman's feeble arm may strike the blow 
Resistless as Jove's thunder — Hark ! some step 
Approaches— here I may unseen retire. 
'Tis he— the Phocian, whose unhallow'd tongue 
Proclaimed Orestes' death. 

[conceals herself behind the tomb. 

Pylades, Orestes, enter. 

Pyla. Draw near the tomb. 

Ores. Give me the urn — no hand but mine may 
place it — 

Elec. [starts forward. 1 Yes — there is one — 

Ores. Thou ! here — 

Elec. Nay — start not, stranger ! 

Thou in my soul hast fixt a cureless wound : 
Yet, if thy heart be human sooth my woe ! 

Ores. What is thy wish ! 

Elec. Give me, I pray, that urn — 

Ores. This cannot sooth thy woe. 

Elec* Thou ne'er hast known 

A sister's love — 

Ores. Alas ! 

Elec. Give me the urn — 

So never rnay'st thou know that grief of heart 
Which finds its only solace in the tear 
That falls upon the dust of one most lov'd. 

Ores, [aside to Pylades.~] May I consent ? 



330 ORESTES. 

Elec. Thus — on my knee — « 

Ores. Oh rise ! 

Elec. Consent, I pray — the tears steal down thy 
cheek ! 
Oh youth ! thou can'st not now refuse my pray'r. 

Ores, [to Pylades.~] Rise — take it! ^-friend! 
these gushing tears betray me— 

Pyla. Be firm ! 'twere dangerous to reveal the truth. 

Elec. [clasping the urn.'] Orestes ! oh my brother ! 
oh sole cause 
For whom I have sustain'd year after year 
The ills of loath'd existence ! thou art gone ! 
Thou too hast left me ! left me, reft of hope. 
To shed lone tears that bathe th' unfeeling urn. 
Was it for this I snatch'd thee from the cradle 
When keen-ey'd murther thirsted for thy blood ? 
I rescued thee that thou in manhood's strength 
Might rise th' avenger of a father's death : 
Rise, the restorer of a glorious race 
Which sprung from Jove ! here, here, alas ! thou 

liest. 
While yet my hand has strength to hold the urn, 
Oh while my lips now press the farewell kiss, 
Strike, strike me dead, kind Heav'n ! and thou, oh 

stranger ! 
(1 have no kin, no friend, no brother left) 
Here place Electra. — Blest alone in this, 
That death unites her ashes with Orestes. 

Ores, [bursting from Pylades.~\ I will not be 
restrain'd— thou hast a brother. 
Behold Orestes here. 



ORESTES. 331 

Elec. Thou — thou — Orestes ! 

Ores. Behold this well known sign. 

Elec. Oh ! [shrieks. 

Ores. Trust the oath 

Of vengeance breath'd on Agamemnon's tomb. 

Elec. [rushing to his arms'] I trust my heart — 
and do I hold thee living ? 
Oh, let me gaze on thee, thou godlike youth ! 
Clasp thee again ! oh let me feel once more 
The pressure of thy arms, and thy warm breath 
That pours new life within me. 

Ores. Oh, my sister ! 

And is it thus we meet ? how pale thy cheek 
Oh thou hast suffer 'd much ! 

Elec. 'Tis all forgotten — 

Oh, golden light of day ! and thou, great Jove ! 
Hear my exulting voice ! 

Pyla. [interrupting her.'] Restrain, Electra ! 
These shouts of clamorous joy — 

Elec. What envious stranger 

Dares interrupt my transport ? 

Ores. Look on him — 

'Tis Pylades — my friend. 

Elec. . My second brother 

Thou com'st to share our triumph. 

Pyla. Oh restrain 

Thy transport — much I fear — 

Elec. [interrupting him.~] What cause for fear? 
Doubt'st thou success will crown us ? 'tis Oreates ! 
Who can oppose him ? so stood Hercules 
When the Nemaean lion gasp'd beneath him. 



332 ORESTES. 

Ores. This is no hour of triumph — cease, Electra! 
This is a dreadful crisis mark'd by fate, 
My Pylades ! thou know'st that none on earth, 
Save Agamemnon's offspring, must be present 
When I invoke his shade, and claim the signal, 
Dread harbinger of vengeance. 

Pyla. I must leave thee— 

Ores. To Calchas go — there, in due time, expect 
me. [Exit. 

Electra, hear ! nor interrupt my words, 

How strange soe'er — 

Elec. Speak — not the dead more silent- 

Ores. It fits thee, but in part, and briefly, now, 
To know how past my youth :- — let this suffice : 
Such lore, as suits a monarch, Strophius gave. 
When the first down began to shade my cheek, 
(A few fleet months now past) Strophius reveal'd 
My birth, till then unknown ; and at the shrine 
Of Phoebus, bade me from the God enquire 
My future fate — I went— a voice thus hail'd me. 
" Son of a murther'd Father ! thine to slay 
ce The slayers — they, by fraud, the chieftain smote. 
" By fraud they perish. At thy twentieth year " 
(Complete this day, e'en this, on which they hold 
The feast of blood) — " to Argos go, thyself, 
" The bearer of the tale that speaks thee dead. 
ee At midnight — in the bath — on the same spot 
* c Where bled Atrides — with the self-same weapon, 
te That steel with which the wife her husband slew, 
** Son, pierce thy mother's bosom" — at the word 
I swoon'd — Electra— [she seems fainting. 



ORESTES. 333 

Elec. I am sick at heart — 

Ores. Oh thou hast more to hear, more dreadful 
far! 

Elcc. 'Tis past — proceed — 

Ores. A voice of thunder rous'd me — 

cc Mortal ! if thou dispute the will of heav'n, 
ec Heart!) j dread sentence — thou shalt roam o'er earth 
ee Stranger to man. No house shall give thee shelter: 
ce No hospitable board afford thee food : 
" The rock thy resting-place : thy fellowship 
" With beasts of prey : foul leprosy shall eat 
" Thy life, by lingering pangs slow worn away." 

Elec. {highly agitated.'} Brother, thou shalt obey. 
They knew not mercy. 

Ores. I dare not disobey — look here, [shews his 
arm."] Electra ! 

Elec. "lis horrible — 

Ores. And ne'er to be effae'd 

But by the gushing blood of her who bore me — 

Elec. Thrice, thrice she struck the blow, without 
remorse— 
What folio w'd, quickly speak — 

Ores. With shuddering awe 

I bow'd, and touch'd the altar — then the voice 
Spake as before. fC To Argos, go, invoke 
" Thy Father's shade ; if, unappeas'd, the manes 
* r Claim justice, the fixt statue on his tomb 
" Shall thrice, in sign of vengeance, wave his spear." 

Elec. [starting up.] Shade of my Father ! rise, 
and sa\e Orestes. 
Begin the invocation. 



334 ORESTES. 

Ores, Yet — my sister ! — 

Elec. Why this delay ? 

Ores. I have a secret grief. 

I dread to utter it — 

Elec. Confide in me. 

Ores. He knows it not, the friend,, the bosom 
friend, 
Who reads my heart — I would not shock his soul. 
He, he, perhaps, would fly this fated wretch. 

Elec. Electra, never — by our father's spirit 
Who watches o'er us, I conjure thee, speak. 

Ores. Know, when my mother bleeds (so spake 
the voice) 
Her furies from that hour shall goad me on, 
(Rendering each day a curse, each night unholy,) 
From land to land, till back to Greece I bring 
From Tauris' shrine, with blood of strangers stain'd, 
One sacred to Diana — this was utter'd : 
And, that of all on earth, but one alone 
Should watch my flight, and tend me at the hour 
When Furies howl around me 

Elec. Yes, my brother, 

'Mid direst woe, the Furies howling round, 
Rendering each day a curse, each night unholy, 
I will alone watch o'er thee. Thou, my brother ! 
Shalt on this sheltering bosom rest thy brow : 
And, when, at intervals, peace sooths thy soul, 
Thou too wilt turn a kindred eye on mine, 
And kindly look on me— delay no more. 
Begin the invocation. 

Ores. Now, Electra, 



ORESTES. 335 

Gaze on the statue with unshrinking eye, 

I dare not trust my senses. If it stir. 

In silence follow me — Shade of my Father ! 

If unappeas'd thy manes : — if the blood 

Of those who slew thee shall be shed for thine, 

If 'tis thy awful mandate that the son 

Should slay his mother 

[Amid peals of thunder and flashes of lightening 
the Statue waves the spear, and a voice cries, 

" Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance."] 



END OF ACT THE THIRD, 



33$ ORESTES. 



ACT IV. SCENE I. 

The Temple of Jupiter. 

Calchas. 

Cal. The lightening flash'd- — the spirit claims 
revenge — 
Dark prophecies, of old obscurely veil'd, 
Flash on the sight — the son shall slay his mother ! 
Soul of the guilty ! melt with fear ! shake earth ! 
While justice from her adamantine throne 
Applauds the righteous deed — 

Pylades enters, 

Pyla. Some danger low'rs. 

They are not at the tomb — forlorn Orestes, 
Who shall protect thee now ? 

Cal. The pow'r who sent him. 

Wait thou the destin'd time — 

Pyla. Yet, Seer ! reflect, 

The horrors of the scene, the^gloom of death. 
The invocation of a vengeful spirit, 
The call and summons to a mother's murther, 
And that portentous signal which confounds 
The faculties of man : these, singly, shake 
Minds of firm texture : and combin'd 'gainst one 



ORESTES. 337 

Of soul so deeply agonis'd, at once 

May o'erturn reason. — Hah ! [seeing Areas enter. 

Arc. Time-honour'd Calchas — 

Pjjla. Ha ! — can it be ? — thou never hast betray'd 
us — 

^rc.They might have torn my body, limb by limb., 
These lips were closed for ever. 

Pyla. What preserv'd thee? 

Arc. The visible arm and agency of Hcav'n. 

Cal. Hear, son of Strophius ! 
And, in still reverence, bow before the Gods. 

Pyla. Relate what pass'd. 

Arc. I stood before iEgisthus. 

'Twas noontide : bright the sun, the monarch rode 
In pomp of triumph, then while loud his slaves 
Shouted cc Behold a God," from cloudless heav'n 
Jove shot the lightning down, and all was still. 

Cal. They knew not what it meant— I watch 'd the 
bolt 
That flash'd portentous, as the answ'ring spirit 
Claim'd vengeance. 

Arc. Unappall'd, the tyrant rag'd : 

Again the lightning flash'd, his steeds transfixt 
Fell breathless. From his seat the monarch rose, 
His rent robes widely flutter'd, and his hair 
Streamed loosely, sing'd with flame : but, in his eye 
Pride glow'd, and indignation : and his brow 
Uplifted, hurl'd defiance 'gainst the God. 
He mock'd at heav'n, and earth : and, at the sight 
Of me in chains, smii'd in contemptuous mood, 
And bad me join the feast. 
z 



338 ORESTES, 



Attendant enters. 

Prophet ! iEgisthus 
Now summons thee. 

Cal. Say, I attend. Go, thou— [to Areas, 

Murderer ! I will confront thee, and each word 
Of prescient truth, to every ear, but thine, 
Shall mark thy imminent death S 

Electra, and Orestes close veiled, enter. 

Pyla. Electra here ! 

Why thus close veil'd ? [to Orestes.] why this mys- 
terious silence ? 

Elec. [to Pylades.'] Speak to him. [to Orestes.'] 
J Tis thy friend— 'tis Pylades. 

Ores. Bid him avoid me — say is Calchas here ? 

Pyla. Orestes ! look upon me — * 

Ores. Touch me not — 

Away — unveil not this devoted head. 

Pyla, Come to my arms. 

Ores. My touch conveys pollution. 

Pyla. Whate'er thy doom, 'tis mine. 

Ores, [uncovering himself^] Let all avoid me : 
This head is self-devoted to the Furies. 

Pyla. What words are these ? explain their awful 
meaning. 
Wilt thou not speak ? 

Ores. I dare a nameless deed : 

And now fate summons to a conference, 
That moro than death appals me. 



ORESTES. 339 

Pyla. Oh ! 

Ores. Nay, sigh not — 

No pitying sigh, no sound of soothing voice 
Must now be heard by me. Such sounds would 

melt me. 
I have held conference with a form of night : 
My powers, each sense, and living faculty, 
My soul, and its affections, all are bound 
To beings that inhabit other worlds : 
To this estrang'd and dead — Calchas ! prepare 
The solemn rites. 

Cal. Come. 

Ores, [going, turns back.~\ Pylades — Electra— ^ 

Elec. Oh, brother ! brother ! 

Pyla. More than life belov'd ! 

Ores. Friend ! Sister ! Oh, I dare not say — fare- 
well ! [Exit with Calchas. 

Pyla. Selected minister of Jove ! farewell ! 

Elec. Avenger of a murther'd sire, farewell ! 
He hears, and waves me back — I now may weep — 
Thou, whom I look on with a sister's eye, 
Oh think not harshly of me, that a woman 
Excites to vengeance — bear with me, I pray — 
My heart is overcharg'd, and I have never 
Found friendly ear, wherein I dar'd to breathe, 
The whisper of a woe. 

Pyla. You see a brother — 

Elec. Not nature, but dire wrongs have steel'd 
Electra. 
Thou heard'st his words ; each sense, and faculty, 
His soul, and his affections (so he spake) 



340 ORESTES. 

Were dead to earthy estranged from humankind. 
And wherefore dead to earth ? alas ! his spirit 
Had commun'd with th' unearthly — with whom then 
Has lorn Electra commun'd ? kindred beings ? 
Had I a mother ? no — a murthress rear'd me. 
What love ? what cares ? what counsel ? what ex- 
ample ? 
Such as debase the soul., to vilest passions 
Give brute excess : such as to name, shall never 
Pollute my virgin lip. 

Pyla. I pity thee — 

Elec. No pity — spare me that — I am high-soul'd-— 
How else had I existed ? how sustain'd 
While youth decayed, year after year, to see 
A base adulterer in Atrides* robes. 
O'er me extend the sceptre of my race, 
And when a tear gush'd forth, insult my woe ? 
Hear him revile my father's memory : 
And, if I look'd but stern, bid Phrygian slaves 
Chain my free hands ? so have I liv'd for ven- 
geance — 
Dread, unexampled vengeance. 

Pyla. Such dire wrongs 

Pass human sufferance. Would I might assist 
thee ! 

Elec. Thou can'st assist me — thou like one from 
heav'n 
May'sl sooth Electra. 

Pyla. Can this arm defend thee ? 

Elec. Brave youth ! Orestes' arm is strongly 
nerv'd — - 



ORESTES 341 

From thee I ask no act of blood, but one 
Of unexampled kindness — - 

Pyla. Speak thy wish. 

Elec. Hear then — Orestes nurs'd a woe in secret, 
That prej'd upon his mind : from thee withheld, 
Kindly withheld, lest it should shock thy nature : 
Or, in th'unguarded transport of affection, 
Bind thee in fellowship of woe with him 
To nameless sufferings — 

Pyla. Unkind Orestes ! 

Elec. The Oracle decreed — 
E'en from the moment that he strikes the murthress, 
Her persecuting Furies should pursue him, 
"Till from the Tauric shrine he bring to Greece 
One sacred to Diana — in his flight, 
Mid the wild ravings of a mind distraught, 
This too was plainly told — " that one alone 
<ff Should tend him in his woe/' 

Pyla. Jove hear my vow ! 

That charge be mine \ 

Elec. Not if Electra live ; 

But, what the issue of this day of blood 
Who, who can tell ? when danger calls Orestes 
I shall not stand aloof — if there I perish 
Remember thou thy oath — 

Pyla. 'Tis seal'd in heav'n. 

Elec. Farewell, heroic youth ! live thou renown'd 
The theme of future ages ! at the name 
Of Pylades, let friendship hail the sound, 
And tears, like mine, from glowing transport gush — 

[Exeunt. 



342 ORESTES. 



Scene changes to Clytemnestra's apartment, 

Clytemnestra, walking to and fro in apparent 
agitation. 

The stranger youth ! he comes not ! Phedra left him 

Unmindful of the passing revellers 

Lone in the outward court — she bad him enter,, 

Said; that I thrice had summon'd him : he groan'd, 

And seem'd most loath to come ! why loath to come ? 

And whence these throbs portentous at my heart. 

As if the soul unknowing what the woe 

Gave presage of misfortune ? — Ha ! I hear 

Their tread — they come — oh how they linger! sure 

I catch their echoed voices — 

Phe. [behind the scenes ] Here — I pray thee 
Enter — why turn away ? 

Ores, [behind the scenes.] Oh horror ! horror ! 

Cly. [rushing out, returns leading in Orestes — 
Phedra follows."] Here, here — why this re- 
luctance ? thou, keep watch, 
Strict watch, that none approach : no curious ear 
Lurk nigh this chamber — hence — [Phedra goes.] 

none hear us now. 
Why this repugnance, youth ? 

Ores. Let me depart. 

Cly. Why dost thou tremble, stranger ? 

Ores. Grief —deep grief 

Breeds strange confusion. I would fain depart— 



ORESTES. 343 

Cly. [stopping him.'] Stayj youths thou must not 
hence — thou fear'st, perhaps, 
I shall regard thee with ungracious eye, 
For that thy voice, to Clytemnestra, first 
Spoke of Orestes' death. 

Ores. A voice so dread 

No doubt were cause to cleave the heart in twain. 
Did not a mother hear those piercing words 
" Thy son is dead ?" 

Cly. [reluctantly^] He would have murther'd me ? 

Ores. A mother ! — and a son ! — oh horrible — 
J Tis a sad strife for blood ! 

Cly. I slew him not. 

Ores. Not him — but — 

Cly. [highly agitated.] Stranger ! 

Ores. Speak — what would'st thou with me ? 
Do not detain me. 

Cly. I would win thy favour. 

Oms. Oh S 

Cly. Why that groan ? 

Ores. We all have secret griefs — 

Briefly disclose thy wish, and let me hence— 
For I have that deep woe within my soul, 
That other's misery can claim no part. 

Cly. Would I could sooth thy grief, as thou 
can'st mine ! 
To thee I must my inmost heart unbosom — 
For tho' thy brow be stern, and strange thy look, 
Youth is the time when sympathising pity 
Most sways the yielding bosom — thou art young, 
And misery, such as mine, will touch thy soul. 



344 ORESTES. 

Ores. Oh ! oh ! 

Cly. If thus thy groan, ere thou hast heard it, 
Ah! what — whenutter'd — youth! thou see'st before 

thee, 
No queen resplendent in the pomp of pow'r, 
Her high soul swelling o'er with boundless bliss. 
The unfed beggar, shivering at ray gate, 
Is far more blest than I ! — he, at the close 
Of each sad day, in rest of sleep may find 
Relief from woe : and revel in the dream 
That lifts him o'er this world's unequal lot, 
To feast with Jove — my dream is of the dead — 
Of spirits howling in eternal torture — 
And when I rise, 

'Tis from the bed of visionary horrors 
To feel them real — pity, sooth, relieve me ! 
Fate has decreed that thou of all mankind 
Alone can'st free me- 

Ores. I ! — 

Cly. Thou know'st it well — - 

Ores. I know it — 

Cly. Turn not thus thy looks away — 

Here look on me, and as my eye meets thine, 
Give answer — 

Ores. Gaze not on me — I will answer — 

Cly. Has not an oracle been heard by thee ? 

Ores. 'Tis certain. — I have heard prophetic sounds. 

Cly. Calchaa forewarn'd me — wilt thou not relieve 
me ? 
Thy heart is like thy brow : but I have gifts 
That shall persuade assent. 



ORESTES. 345 

Ores. Gifts ! — bribes — to me — 

For this ! — 

Cly. \_i>i rage.] And, I have pow'r, unbounded 
pow'r, 
That shall enforce compliance — 

Ores, [full of horror.] Force! beware — 

Cbj. Thy pale cheek flashes with unwonted fire: 
Again, resistless shudders shake thy frame. 
Nav — fear not — let compassion touch thy heart ! 
Hear,, innocent youth 1 thou know'st not what it is: 
Thou hast no stain of blood upon thy soul. 
Could'st thou conceive ! — no — none but murtherers 

can., 
The tortures that await them ! — I have felt them — 
I have giv'n answer at the dead of night 
To tongueless calls : my couch has been beset 
With shapeless forms : the Furies of the slain 
Have toss'd their torches round me, and their locks 
Knotted with adders 

Ores. Cease — my brain's on fire — 

Oh spare me ! spare me ! 

Cly. Meet me on — the spot — 

Down from thy brow big drops in horror roll — 

[Orestes fixes his eyes on a dagger in the 
apartment. ~\ 
Why are thine eyes fix'd on yon glittering scabbard? 

Ores. Spak'st thou not now of gifts ? — give me 
that dagger , 
And I will meet thee at the destin'd place. 

Cly. I have rare gems and gold — those shall 
reward thee : 



346 ORESTES, 

That steel is nothing worth — 

Ores. Give me that dagger — 

I'll meet thee on the spot — 

Cly. Why strangely prize it ? — 

Ores. What ! is it strange that man to battle bred 
Should value a man's weapon ? one, perhaps, 
That grac'd, 'mid wond'ring chiefs 3 Atrides* side. 
Refuse it, death in tortures ne'er shall daunt me. 

Cly. [gives it.~] Thou know'st not with what blade 
I arm thy hand. 

Ores, [full of horror^] There is no blood on 
thee, thou shining steel ! 

[aside, drawing the blade. 

Cly. Swear thou wilt meet ^Egisthus — 

Ores, [ardently interrupting her.'] Aye — 

Cly. And me, 

At midnight — where — 

Ores. ^ a Jj na )0 I know it all — 

In the blood-sprinkled bath. 

Cly, By oath confirm it. 

Ores. An oath too ! — by my Father's memory ! 

Cly, [gives him two keys.~\ Take these — this guards 
the passage — this, the bath — 
Be there — and watch the tread of foot ; — if mine, 
This hand shall at the portal give the signal — 
That heard, admit me. 

Ores. I have sworn — 

Cly. Farewell. [Exeunt. 

END OF ACT THE FOURTH. 



ORESTES. 347 



ACT V. SCENE I. 

A Street before the Palace. 

Calchas, Pylades. 

Cal. Obey — not mine the dictate — Jove there 
guides me. 
Deem not that stern iEgisthus' summons mov'd me 
To join the feast of murther. 

Pyla. I obey. 

Yet bid me not with tame forbearance hear 
His insults, unaveng'd — oh ! bid me plunge 
This dagger in his heart, and there behold me 
Stab the proud tyrant on his guarded throne. 

Cal. Leave him to heav'n — Fate, at the destin'd 
time, 
Will crush the impious. 

Pyla. Seer, once more I urge thee, 

May I not aid Orestes ? — 

Cal. Not this night — 

The time shall come, when Pylades alone 
Shall aid, alone shall sooth his frantic woe. 

\As they are going out they meet Electra. 

Elec. Say, hast thou seen Orestes ? I, in vain, 
Have search'd the palace round, 

Cal. He pass'd not here — 



348 ORESTES. 

Pyla. How hast thou 'scap'd unnotic'd ? 

Elec. None keep watch — 

The guards are steep'd in riotous excess. 
Oh were not force forbidden ! we ourselves, 
Few as we are,, might boldly dare the deed, 
And master these brute revellers. 

Col. [to Electra"} Go, Electra, 

And if thou find Orestes, I enjoin thee, 
Not unattended let him seek the bath. 
I dread his troubled spirit. 

Elec. Guide me, Jove ! 

Thanks, holy prophet [Exit. 

Cat. [to Py lades ^\ To the banquet, come ! 

[Exeunt ■ 



Scene changes to a gloomy Court. 

Orestes. 

Ores. Here let me pause — no voice is heard — no 
step 
Breaks on this noiseless gloom — I saw the sun 
Go calmly down — yet — once — -('tis said) the God 
Turn'd back with horror from Thyestes' feast. 
Of kindred blood, I dare a kindred deed — 
Let me not dwell on't. 'Tis not yet the hour. 
Yon clouds, that gather o'er me, thickly veil 
All that has form and hue in deepest gloom ! 
Man sees not man, the outward beam is dim, 
Yet, ah ! more clearly the internal light 



ORESTES. 349 

Glares on the thought close-shrouded in the soul. 
I hear a step. 

Electra enters. 

Elec. Orestes ! oh where art thou ? 

Ores. It is her voice ! 

Elec. Who speaks ? — Orestes ! answer — 

Ores. I would this had not been ! 

Elec. 'Tis he — my brother. 

Ores. I look'd not for this meeting-. My intent 
Is fixt — I shun all human intercourse. 
Depart — I pray — 

Elec. If 'tis thy wish — I go 

But — thus to part in fearful ignorance ! — 

Ores. Thou wilt not then with woman's pity 
melt me ? — 

Elec. Fix on thy heart thy hand, and count its 
beats, 
Then question mine — our aim, our souls are one — 
I will not vex thee with vain strife of words, 
Turning thy spirit from its great intent :' 
But if thou hold my blood aliied to thine, 
Confide in me — 

Ores, [shewing the dagger.'] I have the dagger — 
here 

Elec. Enough 

Ores. And I have vow'd — ■ 

Elec. What vow ? 

Ores, At midnight 

To meet her at the bath — 

Elec. Th' adulterer with her ? 



350 ORESTES. 

Ores. He shall not 'scape — this too is fixt, that I 
Go, ere the hour — these [the keys.~\ give me entrance 

— -then 
At signal, I admit them — 

Elec. But, my brother — 

Ores. Wherefore this pause ? 

Elec. Thou goest not there alone — 

Ores. Oh be my heart but firm, this arm, 
Electra, 
Dreads no resistance. 

Elec. Thou alone the avenger ; 

The son of Agamemnon shall alone 
Claim, vindicate, and wear his father's honours — 
But the dread deed is destin'd in the place 
Where bled thy father — at the hour he fell — 

Ores. I know it — aye, and justly so ordain'd — 

Elec. There thou must wait alone th' appointed 
time. 

Ores. Well — 

Elec. How shall pass the dreary interval? 

No light has glanc'd on that accursed spot 
Since there he bled — 

Ores. A lamp dispels the gloom — 

Elec. To witness what ? the robe which shrouded 
him, 
Thrice rent, where each deep stroke did pierce his 

heart. 
Thou wilt have leisure time : for what ? to gaze on 
The brazen bath crusted with unwash'd stains : 
To count the drops of blood that spot the floor : 
And gather one by one, wherever scatter'd, 



ORESTES. 351 

Each hair, with blood distain'd, rent from his head 
In the last struggle when he gasp'd for breath. 

Ores. Thou shak'st my soul. 

Elec. And thou wilt hear his groan 

As the adultress smote him. 

Ores, [seizing her arm] Cease ! Electra, 
Come ! let us go together — 

Elec. Thus, Orestes, 

Thus join'd, all, all will prosper. 

Ores, Be thou present ! 

Shade of my father ! rise ! and claim revenge — 

[Exeunt. 



Scene, the Palace. 
Clytemnestra and Phedra. 



Phe. Loud rung their mirth — before I reach'd 
the hall 
The tumult met my ear : I scarce could pass 
The press of guests that round ^Egisthus clamor'd. 
I spake thy words, and much I wonder, Queen ! 
That thus he lingers. 

Cly. Few are found, who quit 

With willing speed, the feast and crowded banquet 
At misery's call. And yet, raethinks, JEgisthus 
Had hasten'd when I urg'd. You spake my words 1 

Phe, When I drew near hinr, his bow'd head 
hung o'er 
A heavy goblet charg'd with wine. I rous'd him, 



352 ORESTES. 

And thrice repeated what thou spak'st — he heard^ 
And gave (forgive the utterance) slow assent. 

Cly. Reluctantly complied! — you misconceived— * 
You importun'd him rudely at the banquet. 
He comes — it is himself — leave us — 

[Exit as sEgisthus enters. 
iEgisthus ! 
Why this delay ? 

JEgis, Thou should 'st have join'd our revels — 

Cly. What ! to smile 

On flattering fools,, regardless of my doom, 
When boding visitations summon me 
To fate's uncertain issue ? thou hast heard 
The supernatural vision — 

jEgis. Woman's fears ! — 

Cly. Light-hearted man ! when Clytemnestra 
shakes 
No brood of idle. fear her soul appals — 
The shape I saw was palpable as thine. 
Laugh with thy slaves — to me give serious heed. 
The banquet and the bowl awhile forget. 

JEgis. Speak, I attend. — Heard'st thou that fes- 
tive shout? [a laugh and festal shout are heard'] 
Would that the phantom that appall'd thy soul 
Might dare confront our feasters ? 

Cly. [with highest indignation.'] 'Twas — Atrides — 

[yEgisthus starts back. 

Aye — start — the grape's thick fumes o'ercloud thy 

brain. 
But I will rouse thy soul to conscious terror. 
When answering torches on from mount to mount, 



ORESTES. 353 

From Ida's crest to Argos, spake that Troy 

Was levell'd, and the lord of Greece, the conqueror, 

The son of A.treus, Agamemnon, sped 

In triumph to his realm : who then preserv'd thee ? 

JEgis. Forbear — 

Cly. , In prostrate guise, thou call'd'st on me. 
I struck the warrior while thou stood'st aloof — - 
I sav'd, I wedded, I first hail'd thee, King. 

jEgis. Forbear — I will obey thee. 

Cly. Mark at least, 

Not mine the wreck of peace, of fame, of virtue, 
For base ingratitude. 

JEgis. Thy will is mine. 

Cly. iEgisthus, 'tis decreed, the prophet spake it, 
That from the youth, who bore Orestes' urn, 
I claim deliverance from these madd'ning horrors : 
The mystery of fate is known to him. 
And ere two hours are past, the time is mark'd, 
At midnight — in the bath — where fell Atrides, 
I meet the youth : thou too must join my steps. 
Delay not when I call. 

*&gis. I now am ready, 

Let us prevent his step. 

Cly, Hast thou no fear ? 

jEgis. The place I fear not : nor that beardless 
youth — 

Cly. Thou hast no weapon with thee — this at least 
Were prudent, to go arm'd. 

jEgis. Give me thy dagger. 

Cly. The youth requested it. 

*Egis. Thou— trust that dagger 

a a 



354 ORESTES. 

To him ! a youth unknown ! well — 'tis the hand 
That gives the steel its worth — I will go arra'd — 
Fear not — I will protect thee — 

Cly. Thou protect me I 

Oh be but with me ! go, and if thou feast, 
Avoid excess- — be ready at the summons. [Exeunt* 

Scene changes to a magnificent oanqueting-room, 
thronged with guests, and sumptuously decorated. 
Musicians, Singers, 8gc. #c. 

Phanor, Guests. 

Pha. J Tis but a transient absence — on his brow 
Low'r'd discontent — the king was loath to leave us. 
Our mirth shall chase his gloom. On his return,, 
Swift at his entrance,, wake the lyre and flute., 
And raise the festive chorus. — See he comes. 

iEoisTHus enters. 

[instruments and voices strike up saluting him,"] 
Pha. Hail, monarch ! hail ! — [choral song. 

jEgis. I greet you all— most welcome — 

The intervening moments, which, like clouds 
Crossing the sun, broke rudely on our mirth, 
By shew of grateful contrast, give new zest 
And relish to enjoyment. — Welcome all. 
My spirits, with redoubled ardour, rush 
To meet your transport — hll again the bowl. 
That strain once more — [chorus is repeated. 



ORESTES. 355 

Fling wide the palace gates — the wond'ring stran- 
gers 
Shall gaze on our magnificence — say,, Phanor, 
Where is the Prophet ? — him I bade attend ; 
His oft-repeated threat will raise our mirth — 
Looks this like Heav'n's displeasure ? Where the 

strangers 
That met us in our triumph ? — 

Pha. They attend. 

We but delayed, iEgisthus, till thy nod 
Gave sign of entrance. 

dSgis. Let them now advance. 



Enter Pylades and Arc as. 

Pha. Make way, make way. 

Pyla. I pray thee., leave us here. 

JEgis, Who speaks ? 

Pha. The stranger Phocians — ■ 

JEgis. Forward lead them. 

Look ! how they gaze^ in speechless wonder lost. 

Pha. The gorgeous majesty of Argos,, dazzles 
The unaccustom'd eye. 

^Egis. Your Phocian feasts 

Are poor to these ? 

Pyla. No, ours are holy banquets 

Whereon the Gods look down — not feasts of blood. 

Pha. Lo ! Calchas comes — [as the Prophet slowly 
advances, the scene gradually darkens. 

*<Egis. Where is the hoary Prophet ? 



356 ORESTES. 

Pha, What strange obscurity o'erclouds the 

banquet ? 
jEgis. I scarce can see his face ! give me thy 
torch. 
Why dost thou gaze so fixedly upon me ? [to Calchas. 
Cal. The tears gush down thy cheek ! thou see'st 
them not : 
Thy groans., ill-fated wretch ! thou hear'st them 
not — 
JEgis. Are these thy wonted threat'nings ? 
Cal. I speak none — 

Dread what the Heav'ns denounce ! 

[violent thunder and lightning. 
Pha. The arch'd vault shakes ! 

/Egis. Methinks I sit like Jove enthron'd 'mid 
Gods., 
While lightnings sport beneath me ! — 

[the guests disperse in much confusion. 
Cal. Impious wretch ! 

Pha. How shall we 'scape ? the roof is cop'd 
with flames. 
Round every column streams the lightning's blaze. 
jEgis. [flinging away the bowl which he had lifted 
to his Hps.~\ Fill me another bowl — this tastes 
of blood — [pours out a mock libation. 

This is our wonted offering to the shade 
Of slain Atrides — 

[the voice that spoke at the tomb is heard. 
" Vengeance ! vengeance ! vengeance !'* 



ORESTES. 35? 



Attendant on Clytemnestra enters. 

Atten. King ! Clytemnestra calls — 

JEgis. I haste — 

Cal. To death. [Exeunt. 



Scene, the vaults leading to the Bath. 
Orestes and Electra. 

Ores. I ani prepar'd for all — take thou the lamp. 
So : hold the light. These locks by time encrusted 
Will not give way 

[His hand trembles, unable rightly to direct 
the key."] 

Elec. It is thy hand that trembles,, 

Give me the key. The springs resist not— now 

[the door opens. 
Force back the iron grate — why dost thou start ? 
This way — thy hand, Orestes — follow me — 

Ores. 'Tis loathsome as the charnel-house. 

[He lingers, and turns away. 

Elec. Quick, quick, 

Hasten thy step — heed not— 'twill pass away — 

Ores. The damps imprison'd in this unsunnd vault, 
Strike me with aeath-like chill — hold up the light — 
'Tis midnight darkness—- 

Elec. Come. 

Ores. Thy single lamp 

Scarce shoots a glimmering ray athwart the gloom. 

Elec. Oh do not wish for more ! 



358 ORESTES. 

Ores. I understand thee— 

I wo old not see her face. — 

Elec. Banish these thoughts — 

Ores. [in the utmost horror. ] Oh, sister ! if her 
eye should glance on mine ! 
[in passing on, he strikes his foot against the 
brazen bath.~\ 
What's this, which, as I struck it unawares, 
Did loudly ring, and vibrate 'gainst my foot ? — 
Elec. Oh ask not ! pass this way — 
Ores. Ah ! 'tis the bath 

In which he perish'd ! quick, take back the light. 
Elec. This way — here wait, shrouded in thickest 

gloom — 
Ores, [starting forward in extreme agitation.'] 

Hah ! seest thou not ? 
Elec. What moves thee ? 

Ores. 'Mid the darkness 

There, there, it dimly gleams — unclasp ray hand — 
Elec, [vainly attempting to hold him.] Why dost 

thou struggle from me ! 
Ores. 'Tis the robe — [seizes it. 

Elec. Keep firm his brain, oh Phoebus ! 
Ores, [displaying the robe to the light.] Heav'n 
and earth ! 
Thrice pierc'd ! — and where the accursed dagger 

emote him, 
Each rent blood-stain'd, yet marks the blow of hell — - 
Die, murth'ress ! [quite frantic] Call me not "thy 

son, thy son." 
Clasp not my hand ! — bare not thy breast to me— 



ORESTES. 359 

Die, murthress ! lo ! she falls — this hand has stabb'd 

her. 
Ha ! what are ye, that from each drop of blood 
Start into life ? foul hags ! your blazing locks 
Are viper-knotted. Why thus strain tow'rds me 
Your eye-balls roll'd in blood ? ye shall not grasp 

me — 
Stretch all your wings — I fly before the wind. 

[He falls exhausted. 
Elec. My brother! 

[Endeavouring to hold him in his struggles. 
Ores. Hah ! 

Elec. Know'st thou not me ? 

Ores. I know thee — 

Thou art my mother's Fury — thou hast seiz'd me 
To whirl me into Tartarus — [violently struggling.'] — 

off, off, 
Down to the realms of torture — 

Elec. Oh, my brother! 

Ores, [recovering.'] Electra ! 
Elec. Lov'd Orestes ! oh, my brother! 

Ores. Thou! 

Elec. 'Tis thy sister clasps thee in her arms, 

These are Electra' s tears that wet thy cheek. 

Ores. Clasp me — nay, closer — are they fled away ? 
Elec. 'Twas but the coinage of thy brain — 
Ores. Indeed — 

[a noise of approaching steps. 
I hear the tread of feet — they come — they come — 
jEgis. [is heard behind the scenes.] Where is the 
youth that brought Orestes' urn ? 
Give entrance to iEgisthus — 



360 ORESTES. 

Ores. 'Tis th' Adulterer— 

lam myself again — King ! enter in. [Opens the door, 
JEgis. [in entering,] Go, slaves! bid Clytemnestra 

haste — away — 
Ores, [to Electra, as ,/Egisthus, enters.] This is a 
righteous blow ! hold up the lamp, 
That we may view each other, face to face. 

iEGisTHus enters. 

JEgis. Boy! drop that lifted dagger, or thou diest. 

[Drawing his sword. 
Ores, [stabs him.] 'Tis I, Orestes, Agamemnon's 
son, 
Die, base adulterer ! [he falls groaning. 

Elec. So fall the base, 

Th' adulterer, and oppressor ! — hark ! I hear 
A hasty foot- — art thou prepar'd ? 

Ores. Oh heav'n ! 

Quick, close that gate. Cast o'er this wretch the 

robe : 
I would not shock her soul before the time : 
Enough that this must be — 

Elec. Is there aught else ? 

Ores. Put out thy light — [she extinguishes it.] — 
the lamp too which she bears, 
On sudden, with swift hand, extinguish it. 
If but a ray break forth, this dagger drops. 

Cly. [knocks thrice.~\ Unbar the gate : give Cly- 
temnestra entrance. 
Ores. Quick, quick, unbar the portal — 

[at her entrance, Electra dashes out her lamp; 



ORESTES. 361 

Cly. What rude hand 

Has seiz'd the lamp? where art thou., stranger? 

speak — 
iEgisthus ? 
^Egis. Oh— 

Cly. , A death-groan strikes my ear — 

What's this which bars my way ? it is the robe 
Which tangled him — there's one that stirs beneath: 
And blood., warm blood, spouts thro' the heaving 
folds— 
<<Egis- [faintly ] Fly—I am slain — Orestes' dag- 
ger pierc'd me — 
He is the stranger — fly. [lie dies, 

[as she attempts to fly, Orestes seizes her with one 
hand, with the other holds the dagger over her. 
Cly. What chill hand grasps me ? 

Ores. Thou must not live — 
Cly. Spare me — my son ! my son ! 

Strike not this breast that nurtur'd thee I have pity ! — 
My son ! my son ! have pity on thy mother — 
Ores, [turns his face away,'] I cannot wound her. 
[the voice that spoke at the tomb. 
cc Vengeance ! vengeance ! vengeance !" 
Cly. [shrieks."] Oh ! 'tis Atrides' voice — there is 
no hope — 
Thus — thus— my arm shall aid thy lingering blow. 
[seizes his arm, and rushes on the dagger. 
[ The curtain falls. 

THE END. 



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be printed in 4to. For these, a speedy Application will be requisite. 



BOOKS, IN THE PRESS, AND PUBLISHING BY 



PROFESSOR MONK. 



Euripidis Alcestis. Ad fidem Manuscriptorum et Veterura Editi- 
onura emendavit, Notis et Glossario instruxit Jacobus Henricus Monk, 
A. M. Collegii S. S. Trinitatis Socius, et Graccarum Literarum apud 
Cantabragienses Professor Regius, 8vo. 

HERBERT MARSH. 

Horce Pelasgicce, Part the First, containing an Inquiry into the 
Origin and Language of the Pelasgi, or Ancient Inhabitants of Greece: 
with a Dissertation on the Pelasgic, or iEolic Digamma. By Herbert 
Marsh, D. D. F. R. S. Margaret, Professor of Divinity in Cam- 
bridge, 8vo. 

LORD ELGIN. 

Memorandum on the Subject of the Earl of Elgin's Pursuits in 
Greece : to which are added, Two Letters from Benjamin West, Esq. 
descriptive of the Subjects and Sculptors of the Elgin Marbles : Notes 
on Phidias and his School, collected from Ancient Authors: and a 
Description of the Bas Relief of the Parthenon, by the celebrated 
M. Millin. Second Edition ; with three Engravings by Moses. 8vo. 

MUNGO PARK. 

The Second Mission of Mungo Park into the Interior of Africa, in 
the Year 1805; printed faithfully from his own Manuscript Journal, 
transmitted by Himself to the Colonial Secretary of State. Also, the 
Interesting Narrative of a Voyage undertaken in Search of Mr. Park. 
To which is prefixed, a Biographical Memoir, with Letters, and other 
Documents, communicated by Mr. Park's Friends. Handsomely 
printed by Buhner, in one volume, 4to (uniformly with Park's former 
Travels) with a new Map and several Woodcuts. 

SIR JOHN MALCOLM. 

The History of Persia, from the most early Ages to the Year 1810, 
with an Account of the present State of that Kingdom, and Remarks 
on the Religion, Government, Sciences, Manners, and Usages of its 
Ancient and Modern Inhabitants. By Sir John Malcolm, late Envoy 
Extraordinary to the Court of Persia. In 2 vols. 4to. 

COLONEL PASLEY. 

Elementary Fortification. Illustrated by upwards of Five Hun- 
dred Diograms in Wood. By Lieut.-Col. C. W. Pasley, Author of 
the Essay on Military Policy. 8vo. 

PROFESSOR ROBISON. 

A System of Mechanical Philosophy, by the late John RoMson, 
LL. D. Professor of Natural Philosophy in the University and Secre- 
tary to the Royal Society of Edinburgh. With Notes and Illustrations, 
comprising the most recent Discoveries in the Physical Sciences. By 
David Brewster, LL. D. F. R,S. E. In Four thick Volumes, 8vo. with 
numerous Plates. 



JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. 



SPENCE. 

Observations, Anecdotes, and Characters of Books and 
Men, by the Rev. Joseph Spence; arranged with Notes through- 
out, hy the late Edmund Malone, Esq. with a prefatory Dissertation, 
and additional Illustrations, by the Rev. W. Beloe, dedicated, by Per. 
mission, to his Grace the Duke of Newcastle ; handsomely printed 
by Bulnier, in 2 vols. 8vo. — Fifty Copies will be taken off in 4to. 

GIBBON. 

A New Volume of Gibbon's Miscellaneous Works, containing all 
the new Matter hitherto unpublished. Intended to complete the 
Quarto Edition. Edited by the Right Hon. Lord Sheffield. With a 
Portrait. 4to. 21. 2s. 

This Volume will be ready for delivery to the Subscribers, on the 
3d of April. Not one Copy has been printed beyond those sub- 
scribed for. 

LORD BYRON. 

The Poetical Works of the Right Hon. Lord Byron, collected 
and printed uniformly and handsomely, by Davison, in 4. vols, 
small 8vo. 

HON BLE . WILLIAM HERBERT. 

Helga ; a Poem in Seven Cantos, with Notes. By the Honour- 
able William Herbert. 8vo. 

THOMAS CAMPBELL. 

The Selected Beauties of British Poetry, with Lives of 
the Poets, and Critical Dissertations. To which is prefixed, an Essay 
on English Poetry. By Thomas Campbell, Esq. Author of the 
Pleasures of Hope. 4 vol. post 8vo. 

In the Biographies, the Editor has exerted the main part of his strength on the Merits 
and Writings of each Poet as an Author, with an intent to form a complete Body of 
English Poetical Criticism. 

MALTHUS. 

Miscellaneous Tracts and Observations on the most In- 
teresting and Important Subjects of Political Economy, by the 
Rev. T. R. Malthus, Professor of History and Political Economy, 
in the East India College, Hertfordshire. One Volume, 8vo. 

REV. T. F. DIBDIN. 
A third Volume of Typographical Antiquities of Great 
Britain; begun by the late Joseph Ames, augmented by William 
Herbert, and now greatly enlarged, with curious Notes, and illus- 
trated with numerous Portraits, Woodcuts, and other appropriate 
Engravings. By the Rev. Thomas Frognall Dibdin. 



MUNGO PARKS JOURNAL. 



On Monday, the 2d of April, will be published, handsomely printed by 
Bulmer, in One Volume 4to, (uniformly with Mr. Park's former Travels,) 
with a new Map, and several Wood Engravings, price £l. lis. 6d. 

THE 

JOURNAL 

OF A MISSION TO 

THE INTERIOR OF AFRICA, 

IN THE YEAR 1805. 

BY MUNGO PARK. 

Together with other Documents, official and private, relating to the same Mis- 
sion. To which is prefixed, 

AN ACCOUNT OF THE LIFE OF MR. PARK. 



" The original documents relating to Mr. Mungo Park's last mission into Afriea, haY- 
ing been entrusted to the Directors of the African Institution by the Secretary of States 
for the Colonial Department, with liberty to publish them, in case they should deem it 
expedient ; the Directors now avail themselves of this permission, by publishing the 
papers for the benefit of Mr. Park's family. 

" These documents, together with other papers furnished by Mr. Park's connexions 
and friends, which also form a part of the present publication, consist of the following 
particulars : 

" 1. The original Journal of the expedition, officially transmitted by Mr. Park to the 
Secretary of State; containing several of Mr. Park's drawings and sketches, illustrative 
of particular descriptions, which are copied in this publication. 

" 2. The Journal, as translated from the Arabic language, of which it was originally 
composed, of a native African, commissioned in the year 1813, by the Governor of 
Senegal to go in search of Mr. Park, and ascertain his fate ; which Journal was likewise 
officially transmitted lo the Secretary of Stale. 

" 3. A Memoir delivered by Mr. Park at the Colonial Office in the year 1804, rela- 
tive to the plan and objects of the intended expedition into Africa ; together with the 
Official Instructions which he received for his guidance ; and two letters addressed by 
him to ihe Secretary of Slate ; one, written shortly after his arrival at the Coast of Africa, 
and the other, at the time of transmitting his Journal, previously to his final embarkation 
on the Niger. 

" 4. Several private letters of Mr. Park, principally written during the time he was 
engaged in this mission ; which, together with the documents included under the last 
mentio/ied head, have been incorporated into the Account of Mr. Park's Life, which it 
prefixed to the Journal. 

" In preparing the Memoir, the editor was much gratified by discovering, that some 
materials, with a view to a similar undertaking, had been collected by a brother-in-law 
of Mr. Park ; who, with the greatest candour, transmitted to him the whole of his papers. 

" These materials have been of great use in preparing the Memoir; in which the editor 
ttas likewise been assisted by much useful information, which he has received from another 
brother-in-law of Mr. Park, Mr. James Dickson ; and also from Mr. Park's two brothers. 

" The editor is likewise greatly indebted to Major Rennell and to Zachary Macauley, 
-^isq. for several interesting particulars concerning Mr. Park ; and to the latter in parti- 
cular, for much valuable information relative to the trade of this country with Africa, 
wjhicliwill be found in the Appendix to the Memoir. 

" But his acknowledgments are due, in an especial manner, to Sir Joseph Banks ; who 
has not only favoured the editor with the fullest communication of his correspondence 
with Mr. Park, and of his papers relating to this subject, but has in every other respect 
assisted and promoted the present undertaking with a kindness and liberality, propor- 
tioned to iiis sincere and constant friendship for Mr. Park, and to his uniform zeal for 
whatever he considers to be, in any degree connected, with useful knowledge and scien- 
tific discovery." 

Printed for JOHN MURRAY, Albemarle Street, London. 

16 S 



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